While ravening death of slaughter ne'er grows weary, 



Life multiplies the immortal meal as fast. 



All are devourers, all in turn devoured ; 



Yet every unit in the uncounted sum 



Of victims has its share of bliss — its pang, 



And but a pang — of dissolution : each 



Is happy till its moment comes; and then. 



Its first, last suffering, unforeseen, unfeared, 



Ends with one struggle pain and life for ever. 



