Perhaps this says it all. Farewell Jessye Norman.
At Dusk
We have, of need and joy,
wandered hand in hand;
From wandering rest we now
amidst the silent land.
The valleys fold around themselves
before the deepening gloom
Alone two larks still soar
Rapt in the twilight perfume.
Stand here and let them whirl,
soon enough comes their rest
Would that we not lose ourselves
within this loneliness.
O utter silent peace!
Suffused with this sun's last breath
Of wandering grow we so weary -
Is this our sense of death?