 | Poems of the late Francis S. Key, Esq., . |  |
162
The Worm's Death-Song.
O! let me alone—I've a work to be done
That can brook not a moment's delay;
While yet I breathe I must spin and weave,
And may rest not night nor day.
That can brook not a moment's delay;
While yet I breathe I must spin and weave,
And may rest not night nor day.
Food and sleep I will never know
Till my blessed work be done;
Then my rest shall be sweet, in the winding-sheet
That around me I have spun.
Till my blessed work be done;
Then my rest shall be sweet, in the winding-sheet
That around me I have spun.
I have been a base and grovelling thing,
And the dust of the earth my home,
But now I know that the end of my woe,
And the day of my bliss, is come.
And the dust of the earth my home,
But now I know that the end of my woe,
And the day of my bliss, is come.
163
In the shroud I make, this creeping frame
Shall peacefully die away,
But its death shall be new life to me,
In the midst of its perished clay.
Shall peacefully die away,
But its death shall be new life to me,
In the midst of its perished clay.
I shall wake, I shall wake, a glorious form
Of brightness and beauty to wear;
I shall burst from the gloom of my opening tomb,
And breathe in the balmy air.
Of brightness and beauty to wear;
I shall burst from the gloom of my opening tomb,
And breathe in the balmy air.
I shall spread my new wings to the morning sun,
On the summer's breath I'll live;
I will bathe me where, in the dewy air,
The flowers their sweetness give.
On the summer's breath I'll live;
I will bathe me where, in the dewy air,
The flowers their sweetness give.
I will not touch the dusty earth,
I'll spring to the brightening sky,
And, free as the breeze, wherever I please,
On joyous wing I'll fly.
I'll spring to the brightening sky,
And, free as the breeze, wherever I please,
On joyous wing I'll fly.
164
And wherever I go, timid mortals may know
That, like me, from the tomb they shall rise;
To the dead shall be given, by signal from heaven,
A new life, and new home in the skies.
That, like me, from the tomb they shall rise;
To the dead shall be given, by signal from heaven,
A new life, and new home in the skies.
Then let them, like me, make ready their shrouds,
Nor shrink from the mortal strife,
And like me they shall sing, as to heaven they spring,
Death is not the end of life.
Nor shrink from the mortal strife,
And like me they shall sing, as to heaven they spring,
Death is not the end of life.
January 31st, 1841.
| Poems of the late Francis S. Key, Esq., . | |