In homage to the undying John Keats, I present my setting of his poem, Death.
DEATH, Copyrightę1990 DamonMusic by Sean Damon Rohde. All rights reserved
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's to die.
How strange it is 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.