Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Life, Death, and Eternity
Life, Death, and Eternity.
A shadow moving by one's side,
That would a substance seem—
That is, yet is not,—though descried,—
Like skies beneath the stream;
A tree that's ever in the bloom,
Whose fruit is ever ripe;
A wish for joys that never come,
Such are the hopes of life.
That would a substance seem—
That is, yet is not,—though descried,—
Like skies beneath the stream;
A tree that's ever in the bloom,
Whose fruit is ever ripe;
A wish for joys that never come,
Such are the hopes of life.
A dark, inevitable night,
A blank that will remain;
A waiting for the morning light,
When waiting is in vain;
A gulf where pathway never led
To show the depth beneath;
A thing we know not, yet we dread:
That dreaded thing is death.
A blank that will remain;
A waiting for the morning light,
When waiting is in vain;
A gulf where pathway never led
To show the depth beneath;
A thing we know not, yet we dread:
That dreaded thing is death.
The vaulted void of purple sky
That everywhere extends,
That stretches from the dazzled eye,
In space that never ends;
A morning whose uprisen sun
No setting e'er shall see;
A day that comes without a noon:
Such is eternity.
That everywhere extends,
That stretches from the dazzled eye,
In space that never ends;
A morning whose uprisen sun
No setting e'er shall see;
A day that comes without a noon:
Such is eternity.