He had been to touch the great death, and found that, after all, it was but the great death. He was a man. - Stephen Crane

LXV [Once, I knew a fine song]

Once, I knew a fine song, — It is true, believe me, — It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! They all flew away.
I cried, “Come back, little thoughts!”
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.

If I should cast off this tattered coat,
And go free into the mighty sky;
If I should find nothing there
But a vast blue,
Echoless, ignorant — What then?

If You Ain't Afraid, Go Do It Then