Black bile boils up in your throat
Wanting to spit, you start to choke
On all the wrongs unjustly received--
As jealous hands connived and deceived;
Your stomach rolls at the thought that they
Abused your trust and walked away,
And they now hold the golden key
While you lie wasting in misery.
--C.H. Green©2005
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So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
75
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 an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
80
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.--William Cullen Bryant from Thanatopsis
A spinoff blog where I post my poetry. Please visit me at Beneath the Ivy Wreath.
Coyprighted material of C.H. Green
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So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
75
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 an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
80
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.--William Cullen Bryant from Thanatopsis
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