Life never dies, although we live
In midst of change and death
Only the forms shall pass away
And not the spirit's breath.
The consciousness can never die
Although it seems to fade
It doth but pass to other forms
Which thoughts and acts have made.
There is no death all nature cries
The rose will reappear
its petal will more perfect be
After the winter drear.
The tiny bird that lifeless falls
A victim to its prey
Returns again in higher forms
Upon its upward way.
From life to life more high and free
the myriad forms evolve
O may we learn to know the truth
This mighty riddle solve.
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