THE RUBICON

by: William Winter (1836-1917)

NE other bitter drop to drink,

And then -- no more!

One little pause upon the brink,

And then -- go o'er!

One sigh -- and then the lib'rant morn

Of perfect day,

When my free spirit, newly born,

Will soar away!

 

One pang -- and I shall rend the thrall

Where grief abides,

And generous Death will show me all

That now he hides;

And, lucid in that second birth,

I shall discern

What all the sages of the earth

Have died to learn.

 

One motion -- and the stream is crossed,

So dark, so deep!

And I shall triumph, or be lost

In endless sleep.

Then, onward! Whatso'er my fate,

I shall not care!

Nor Sin nor Sorrow, Love nor Hate,

Can touch me there.

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