Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend Printed but not published |
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THE DEAD. |
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 | Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend |  |
157
THE DEAD.
How
happy are the dead!
Ye slumberers of the tomb, I envy you,
Who in the midst of this tumultuous world
Have hied you to a spot where all its din
Rolls over you unheard! My wearied senses,
Vexed with their lingering vigil, call for sleep
To seal them up forever. The strained eye
Aches with the force that wears its loathing gaze
On things half wild enough to make its ball
Start from its socket; and the ear is stunned,
And gladly would hold amity with deafness,
So it might 'scape the clamor and the jar
Of this distracted globe; and the poor heart—
The feeling heart, is sick almost to death!
Would it were quite!—
Ye slumberers of the tomb, I envy you,
Who in the midst of this tumultuous world
Have hied you to a spot where all its din
Rolls over you unheard! My wearied senses,
Vexed with their lingering vigil, call for sleep
To seal them up forever. The strained eye
Aches with the force that wears its loathing gaze
On things half wild enough to make its ball
Start from its socket; and the ear is stunned,
And gladly would hold amity with deafness,
So it might 'scape the clamor and the jar
Of this distracted globe; and the poor heart—
The feeling heart, is sick almost to death!
Would it were quite!—
Yes, I confess it; nor can sin be called,
Nor the stern decalogue itself prohibit,
An envy like to this; those interdicts
Guarded alone our neighbor's living weal,
Nor dreamed the world should come to such a pass
Corse or corruption could be coveted,
(As Eastern sages failed to legislate
'Gainst parricide, not dreaming such a crime
Could e'er exist;) then not unlawfully,
Ye slumberers of the tomb! I envy you
Your dreamless rest. How happy are the dead!
Nor the stern decalogue itself prohibit,
158
Guarded alone our neighbor's living weal,
Nor dreamed the world should come to such a pass
Corse or corruption could be coveted,
(As Eastern sages failed to legislate
'Gainst parricide, not dreaming such a crime
Could e'er exist;) then not unlawfully,
Ye slumberers of the tomb! I envy you
Your dreamless rest. How happy are the dead!
| Poems and miscellanies selected from the writings of Miss Eliza Townsend | |