Hithertofore if thou hast been by the bed-
Side of one that's betwixt life and death--
For whose state even a flinty heart bled--
Who for his dire health under his breath
Could barely speak and as Job the finest meal
Loathed for his circumstances was yonder food
And on top no pleasantness more did he feel;
Thou, meseems, in thine melancholy mood
    Might this in thy heart ponder:
To the Christian and to the atheist
To the high and to the fellow low
To the worshipper and to the priest
To the fast fella and to the slow
To the fool and to the very wise
To the seeker of hell and paradise--
   If you're not inured, more you'd wonder
Of such that's beyond the mercy of medicine,
Though not heaven that cleanses away man's sin--
   With one destiny shall all men be met:
   One birth . . . one life . . . one death.