ODE TO DEATH.

I do not fear thee, Death!

I have a bantering thought!--though I am told

Thou art inflexible, and stern, and bold;

And that thy upas breath

Rides on the vital air;

Monarch and Prince of universal clime,

Executor of the decrees of Time--

Sin's dark, eternal heir.

Over the land and sea

Is felt the swooping of thy ebon wings,

And on my ear thy demon-chuckle rings,

Over the feast the panting summer brings,

"For me--'tis all for me!"

All seasons and all climes--

In city crowded, and in solitude,

Ye gather your unsatisfying food;

Ev'n through the rosy gates of joy intrude

Thy deep, sepulchral chimes.

I know thee well, though young;

Thrice, ruthlessly, this little circle broke

Hast thou. A brother, sister--then the Oak,

(Ah, hadst thou spared that last and hardest stroke,)

Round which our young hopes clung!

Ye wantonly have crush'd,

By your untimely and avenging frost,

The buds of hope which bid to promise most;

Oh! had ye known the heart-consuming cost,

Could ye, O! Death have hush'd

The music that endears,

And makes this chill'd existence tolerable?

Yet will I not such selfishness--'tis well;

I hear, I hear a happier, holier swell

From out the eternal spheres!

I do defy thee, Death!

Why flee me, like a debtor in arrears?

To weary out the agony of years,

With nothing but the bitter brine of tears,

And scarcer existing breath.

My soul is growing strong,

And somewhat fretful with its house of clay,

And waiting quite impatiently to lay

It off, and soar in light away,

To hymn th' "eternal song."

This is a cowardice

Perhaps--a deep, mean selfishness withal.

That whets our longings in the spirit's thrall

To lay aside these trials, and forestall

The hours of Paradise.

Thou wise, Eternal God!

Oh, let me not offend Thy great design!

Teach thou thy erring mortal to resign,

Make me be patient, let me not repine

Beneath this chast'ning rod;

Though storm and tempest whelm,

And beat upon this naked barque, 'tis well;

And I shall smile upon their heaviest swell--

Hush, rebel thoughts!--my heart be calm and still,

The Master's at the helm!

The Poets and Poetry of Cecil County, Maryland · 第 276 / 282 题