Repose

When dusk came, all is gone,

Heyday is over

In a solitary  hearse.

There it stays

The journey to Hades is long

Charon there awaits

at the banks of Styx,

Under brain-colored sky

Icy and silent he stands

In his cloak of death.

Suddenly, a cloudburst.

Blazing bolt and thunder

The interment begins.

The sepulcrum closes,

Happiness is wailing

Longing to rest.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.- W. B. Yeats