To-day is a thought, a fear is to-morrow, And yesterday is our sin and our sorrow; And life is a death, Where the body's the tomb, And the pale sweet breath Is buried alive in its hideous gloom. Then waste no tear, For we are the dead; the living are here, In the stealing earth, and the heavy bier. Death lives but an instant, and is but a sigh, And his son is unnamed immortality, Whose being is thine. Dear ghost, so to die Is to live, -- and life is a worthless lie. -- Then we weep for ourselves, and wish thee goodbye. |