Death, men say, is like a sea

DEATH, men say, is like a sea 
That engulfs mortality, 
Treacherous, dreadful, blindingly 
Full of storm and terror. 

Death is like the deep, warm sand 
Pleasant when we come to land, 
Covering up with tender hand 
The wave's drifted error. 

Life's a tortured, booming gurge 
Winds of passion strike and urge. 
And transmute to broken surge 
Foam-crests of ambition. 

Death's a couch of golden ground. 
Warm, soft, permeable mound, 
Where from even memory's sound 
We shall have remission.