*Prospice
"Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place.
The power of the night, the press of the storm
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in visible form
Yet the strong man must go
For the journey is done and the summit attained
And the barriers fall
Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained
The reward of it all
I was ever a fighter, so--one fight more
The best and the last!
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes and forebore,
And bade me creep past.
No! Let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers,
The heroes of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears
Of pain, darkness, and cold.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave
The black minute's at end,
And the elements rage, the fiend-voices that rave
Shall dwindle, shall blend,
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain
Then a light, then thy breast
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!
--Robert Browning--
*Latin: look forward