A Way of Escape

There's a way of escape through the Gate of Sorrow,
A light at the end of the Path of Pain:
But our joy and our love can have no to-morrow,
And to drink is to sink to the earth again.

There is death in the breath when our lips draw nigher,
And we lay waste the plain for a flower to grow;
And we build up the tower of an hour's desire
With dust from the pit of its overthrow.