Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Thomas Hood. 17981845649. Death
IT is not death, that sometime in a sigh | |
This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; | |
That sometime these bright stars, that now reply | |
In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night; | |
That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite, | 5 |
And all life’s ruddy springs forget to flow; | |
That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite | |
Be lapp’d in alien clay and laid below; | |
It is not death to know this—but to know | |
That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves | 10 |
In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go | |
So duly and so oft—and when grass waves | |
Over the pass’d-away, there may be then | |
No resurrection in the minds of men. |