If I must die, br The earth is inarticulate to sing br The dirge I crave: br The sorrow of the murmur-laden wave, br The sea-born wind complaining ’neath the sky, br And round my head the waters’ silver ring. br br If I must live, br And feel the ashes of oblivion br About my soul, br Let life be fearful, let me feel the whole, br Despair, and face the sunrise—if I grieve br Let it but be the tarrying of the sun.