Come lovely and soothing death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later, delicate death.

Prais'd be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious;
And for love, sweet love -- But praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding Death.

 ... 

Over the tree-tops I float thee a song!
Over the rising and sinking waves -- over the myriad fields, and the prairies wide;
Over the dense-pack'd cities all, and the teeming wharves and ways,	
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O Death!