Peace is the heir of dead desire, br Whether abundance killed the cormorant br In a happy hour, or sleep or death br Drowned him deep in dreamy waters, br Peace is the ashes of that fire, br The heir of that king, the inn of that journey. br br This last and best and goal: we dead br Hold it so tight you are envious of us br And fear under sunk lids contempt. br Death-day greetings are the sweetest. br Let trumpets roar when a man dies br And rockets fly up, he has found his fortune. br br Yet hungering long and pitiably br That way, you shall not reach a finger br To pluck it unripe and before dark br Creep to cover: life broke ten whipstocks br Over my back, broke faith, stole hope, br Before I denounced the covenant of courage.