ON IMMORTALITY
For immortality, all mortals sigh,
Men are not dead, then, when they die?
Fond Hope dispels our mental fears,
Transports the thoughts to happier spheres.
And yet,—’tho we ceased here in rayless night,
Have we not had our share of light?
Of summer sunshine, cloud and showers,
Bright rainbow tints, bright birds and flowers?
O’er dearth of years is it not selfishness to grieve?
How much of unawakened clay,
Has yet not had its glimpse of day,
Has yet not felt the thrill of life?
Anon, anon, when his long race is run,
Will not man gladly rest in his cool tomb?
For other lives we should make room;
Sleep they not best, whose hard life’s work is done?