Death, men say, is like a sea

Death, men say, is like a sea
That engulfs mortality,
Treacherous, dreadful, blindingly
Full of storm and terror.

Death is like the deep, warm sand
Pleasant when we come to land,
Covering up with tender hand
The wave's drifted error.

Life's a tortured, booming gurge
Winds of passion strike and urge.
And transmute to broken surge
Foam-crests of ambition.

Death's a couch of golden ground.
Warm, soft, permeable mound,
Where from even memory's sound
We shall have remission.