Chapter III: The Peace to Be

Quell this consuming fever, quickly give Some drug of poppies white!--But Peace will come? O ashen savourless alternative, Quietude of the blind and deaf and dumb That all swift motions must alike assuage,-- When we are exiled from youth's golden hosts To pace the calm cold terraces of age, With unvexed senses, being but houseled ghosts, Wise, with the uncoloured wisdom of the souls With whom great passions have no more to do, Serene, since ours the dusty arles Death doles, Oblivions dim of all there is to rue!-- Peace comes to hearts of whom proud Love has tired; Beyond all danger dwell the undesired.