II.

You who know what easeful arms

Silence winds about the dead,

Or what far-swept music charms

Hearts that were earth-wearied;

You who know — if aught be known

In that everlasting Hush

Where the life-born years are strewn,

Where the eyeless ages rush,—

Tell me, is it conscious rest

Heals the whilom hurt of life?

Or is Nirvana undistressed

E'en by memory of strife?