The Rubicon

One 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! Whatsoe'er my fate,
I shall not care!
Nor Sin nor Sorrow, Love nor Hate
Can touch me there.