XXVI) Now fate assumes a gentler power
Now fate assumes a gentler power,
Us to beguile,
And deep with yellow death aflower
The meadows smile.
Desire no more, they say; desire
Is one with pain:
Unending sorrow is its hire,
Death still the gain.
But whoso hath desire forsworn,
His pain shall cease,
And he into our death reborn
Shall live at peace.