 | Poems |  |
198
CCXIV
[I envy not the dead that rest]
I envy not the dead that rest,
The souls that sing and fly;
Not for the sake of all the Blest,
Am I content to die.
The souls that sing and fly;
Not for the sake of all the Blest,
Am I content to die.
If ever men were laid in earth,
And might in earth repose,
Where spirits have no second birth—
Those, those, I envy, those.
And might in earth repose,
Where spirits have no second birth—
Those, those, I envy, those.
My being would I gladly give,
Rejoicing to be freed;
But if for ever I must live,
Then let me live indeed.
Rejoicing to be freed;
But if for ever I must live,
Then let me live indeed.
What peace could ever be to me
The joy that strives with strife?
What blissful immortality
So sweet as struggling life?
The joy that strives with strife?
What blissful immortality
So sweet as struggling life?
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