Immortals could we ever be,
No, not some never-dieing men
With powers to ward of death,
Fleeing judgment and reward,
With worries about hell.
No, not to live here eternal,
Void of the thrilling haste of time
Nor never satisfied with the cravings of this life, since such would never die and would ever miss the thrill of being forever missed.
"But real immortals are these
The immortals we could be
Who die but live on still
In some lovers mem'ries
Whose bodies to death is lent,
To be ever missed but felt".
