My days among the Dead are past; Around
me I behold, Where’er
these casual eyes are cast, The
mighty minds of old: My
never-failing friends are they, With
whom I converse day by day. With
them I take delight in weal And
seek relief in woe, And
while I understand and feel How
much to them I owe, My
cheeks have often been bedew’d With
tears of thoughtful gratitude. My
thoughts are with the Dead; with them I
live in long-past years, Their
virtues love, their faults condemn, Partake
their hopes and fears, And
from their lessons seek and find Instruction
with an humble mind. My
hopes are with the Dead; anon My
place with hem will be, And
I with them shall travel on Through
all Futurity; Yet
leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust. |
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