I DIE -- my limbs with icy feeling Bespeak that Death is near; His frozen hand each pulse is stealing; Yet still I do not fear! There is a hope -- not frail as that Which rests on human things -- The hope of an immortal state, And with the King of kings! And ye may gaze upon my brow, Which is not sad, tho' pale; These hope-illumin'd features show But little to bewail. Death should not chase the wonted bloom From off the Christian's face; Ill prelude of the bliss to come, Prepar'd by heavenly grace. Lament no more -- no longer weep That I depart from men; Brief is the intermediate sleep, And bliss awaits me then! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMOIR OF A PROUD BOY by CARL SANDBURG A DOUBTFUL CHOICE by EDWARD DE VERE MEN AND BOYS by KARL THEODORE KORNER CYNTHIA SPORTING by PHILIP AYRES OUR DAILY BREAD by MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK SAW YE JOHNNIE COMIN'? by JOANNA BAILLIE HERE ENTER NOT by KATHARINE CANBY BALDERSTON |