And when the sun sets, and darkness descends
We have to cross the river.
No pain, no sorrow, no dirge, no lamentation.
Why do you cry, my friend?
Let us be true to earth,
Let us be true to life.
Let us go to an alien land
And cultivate, and make rows of flower beds,
And drink honey, and sleep on the heavy boughs of stars.
Let us look at the humongous dark trees
And bath in the mellowed dew, in morn and evening too,
And lie on long untrammeled grass.
Let us scent the wild flowers
And hear the humming bees,
And see all day the spotted, streaked, speckled butterflies.
Let us make a bonfire
And pass the moaning night clasping hands together,
Beside a bare cottage amid a forest deep.