Immortal joy, if such there were,
Would fall off from intensity,
Like weakest wind with weakest whirr,
Long lost to life’s immensity.
Immortal love would fuel no flame,
Desire not surge or swell;
Immortal thoughts seem but a game
With no loss/gain to tell.
Immortal lips would sing no song
To rouse a lover’s flight,
And beauty find no hero strong
To battle on with might.
Mortality, thou givest all!
To stride alive, step up, or fall,
And ban immortal, “Hence!”