Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me,
And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me,
[And I in the middle as with companions,]1 
  and as holding the hands of companions,
I fled forth to the hiding receiving night, [that talks not,]1
Down to the shores of the water, [the path by the swamp in the dimness,]1
To the solemn shadowy cedars and the ghostly pines so still.

And the singer so shy to the rest [receiv'd me,
The gray-brown bird I know]1 received us comrades three,
And he sang what seem'd the carol of death, and a verse for him I love.

[From deep secluded recesses,
From the fragrant cedars and the ghostly pines so still,
Came the carol of the bird.

And the charm of the carol rapt me,
As I held as if by their hands my comrades in the night,]1
And [the voice of]1 my spirit tallied the song of the bird.