Classic Poem

This breast which now alternate burns
 With flashing hope, and gloomy fear,
Where beats a heart that knows the hue
 Which aching bosoms wear;

This curious frame of human mold,
 Where craving wants unceasing play—
The troubled heart and wondrous form
 Must both alike decay.

The cold wet earth will close around
 Dull senseless limbs, and ashy face,
But where, O Nature! where will be
 My mind's abiding place?

Will it ev'n live? For though its light
 Must shine till from the body torn;
Then, when the oil of life is spent,
 Still shall the taper burn?

O, powerless is this struggling brain
 To pierce the mighty mystery;
In dark, uncertain awe it waits,
 The common doom—to die!

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Mortal! and can thy swelling soul
 Live with the thought that all its life
Is centered in this earthy cage
 Of care, and tears, and strife?

Not so; that sorrowing heart of thine
 Ere long will find a house of rest;
Thy form, re-purified, shall rise,
 In robes of beauty drest.

The flickering taper's glow shall change
 To bright and starlike majesty,
Radiant with pure and piercing light
 From the Eternal's eye!