I see the road,Further up like a blot;
Sinking in the evening sky,
Fading away in dying sun’s gilt,
Lurking mist curtail the sense,
As life recline to pallid dense;
Of this road taken, none return,
The living dread its turn;
The firemen hurry,
Morticians worry,
And along the banks of the dead,
The boatman untie the ferry;
When we take this way,
Life walks away.
