Saturday, November 1, 2008

For All Saints Day: A Poem

A Selection from "Thanatopsis" by William Cullen Bryant

So live, that when thy summons comes to you
To join the innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious real, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed,
By unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
As one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

3 comments:

Jan said...

Thank you.

Judith said...

This poem, along with "Crossing the Bar" by Tennyson, is one of my favorites! Thanks!

Anonymous said...

thats not a poem it dosn't rime!!!!