Tell me some more
About the shore
Where Charon waits
To greet the greats
And poor and 'twixt,
Randomly mixed,
A penny apiece,
Without surcease.
Is it hard and bare?
Do spirits share
Obligingly
Or try to flee,
Each dark shape
Bent on escape?
Do come ahead,
He tells the dead,
No woo, no warning.
No more morning.
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