Sinopsis

Released Oh, joy of the dying! At last thou art mine. And leaping to meet thee, Impatient to greet thee, A rapid and rapturous, sensitive, fine Gayety steals through my pulses to-day, Daring and doubting like pleasure Forbidden, or Winter looking at May. Oh, sorrow of living! Make way for the thrill Of the soul that is starting- Onlooking-departing Across the threshold of clay. Bend, bow to the will Of the soul that is up and away!