A WAY OF ESCAPE

By George William Russell

There's a way of escape through the Gate of Sorrow,

A light at the end of the Path of Pain:

But our joy and our love can have no to-morrow,

And to drink is to sink to the earth again.

There is death in the breath when our lips draw nigher,

And we lay waste the plain for a flower to grow;

And we build up the tower of an hour's desire

With dust from the pit of its overthrow.