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A Thought on Death: November, 1814

1 When life as opening buds is sweet,

2 And golden hopes the fancy greet,

3 And Youth prepares his joys to meet,--

4 Alas! how hard it is to die!

 

5 When just is seized some valued prize,

6 And duties press, and tender ties

7 Forbid the soul from earth to rise,--

8 How awful then it is to die!

 

9 When, one by one, those ties are torn,

10 And friend from friend is snatched forlorn,

11 And man is left alone to mourn,--

12 Ah then, how easy 'tis to die!

 

13 When faith is firm, and conscience clear,

14 And words of peace the spirit cheer,

15 And visioned glories half appear,--

16 'Tis joy, 'tis triumph then to die.

 

17 When trembling limbs refuse their weight,

18 And films, slow gathering, dim the sight,

19 And clouds obscure the mental light,--

20 'Tis nature's precious boon to die.

a
Written by
Anna Lætitia Barbauld
1743-1825 / English
Lines·Words
20·154
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