IDENTITY
I amthe blood that burns,The flesh that dies,The haunted heart that turnsTo Paradise,The soul that laugheth lowAnd whisperethThere are sweet things to knowAfter—Death.Such powers am I, and moreBoth good and bad;Nor all the learnéd loreSolomon hadCould ill and good dissever.Yet this is true:Naught’s me that doth not everCleave to you.
I amthe blood that burns,The flesh that dies,The haunted heart that turnsTo Paradise,The soul that laugheth lowAnd whisperethThere are sweet things to knowAfter—Death.Such powers am I, and moreBoth good and bad;Nor all the learnéd loreSolomon hadCould ill and good dissever.Yet this is true:Naught’s me that doth not everCleave to you.
I amthe blood that burns,The flesh that dies,The haunted heart that turnsTo Paradise,The soul that laugheth lowAnd whisperethThere are sweet things to knowAfter—Death.
I amthe blood that burns,
The flesh that dies,
The haunted heart that turns
To Paradise,
The soul that laugheth low
And whispereth
There are sweet things to know
After—Death.
Such powers am I, and moreBoth good and bad;Nor all the learnéd loreSolomon hadCould ill and good dissever.Yet this is true:Naught’s me that doth not everCleave to you.
Such powers am I, and more
Both good and bad;
Nor all the learnéd lore
Solomon had
Could ill and good dissever.
Yet this is true:
Naught’s me that doth not ever
Cleave to you.