Monday, February 22, 2010

Thanatopsis


The last stanza of this marvelous poem by William Cullen Bryant was read at Grandpa's gravesite yesterday. Timeless irreligious wisdom.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

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