Friday, December 30, 2005
Can death be sleep when life is but a dream
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain is to die.
How strange is it that man on Earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
~© John Keats~