Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Anna Lætitia Barbauld. 17431825474. Life
LIFE! I know not what thou art, | |
But know that thou and I must part; | |
And when, or how, or where we met, | |
I own to me ‘s a secret yet. | |
But this I know, when thou art fled, | 5 |
Where’er they lay these limbs, this head, | |
No clod so valueless shall be | |
As all that then remains of me. | |
O whither, whither dost thou fly? | |
Where bend unseen thy trackless course? | 10 |
And in this strange divorce, | |
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I? | |
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame | |
From whence thy essence came | |
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed | 15 |
From matter’s base encumbering weed? | |
Or dost thou, hid from sight, | |
Wait, like some spell-bound knight, | |
Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour | |
To break thy trance and reassume thy power? | 20 |
Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be? | |
O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee? | |
Life! we have been long together, | |
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; | |
‘Tis hard to part when friends are dear; | 25 |
Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;— | |
Then steal away, give little warning, | |
Choose thine own time; | |
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime | |
Bid me Good-morning! | 30 |