To a Lady, II

Many there be who die in throes, And groans, and fearful anguish: And there be those, who waste in woes; And many there be who languish; But few there be, who die like me, Then wake again to sorrow; Who strive with death, and feel them free, But are bound again to-morrow; Who wrestle through all its agony, And strive no more in its chains to be, But are born again to misery, In the dying years they borrow.