IT is not death, that sometime in a sigh This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; That sometime these bright stars, that now reply In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night; That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite, And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow; That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite Be lapp'd in alien clay and laid below; It is not death to know this -- but to know That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go So duly and so oft -- and when grass waves Over the pass'd-away, there may be then No resurrection in the minds of men. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PRAISE OF HIS LOVE by HENRY HOWARD JAFFAR by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT THE SONNET by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH QUATRAIN: FAME by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH RAILWAY DREAMINGS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON AN INVECTIVE AGAINST THE WORLD, SELECTION by NICHOLAS BRETON POIHNATION; FOR J. P. by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE FATAL DREAM; OR, THE UNHAPPY FAVOURITE; AN ELEGY by EMANUEL COLLINS |