Excerpt from The Last Enemy: Conquering and Conquered
Tired with the sultry noonday toil,
I laid me on the grassy soil,
Where stately o"er my head,
An oak"s broad branches, with the sound
Of winds on distant errand bound,
Their fanning coolness spread,
And, glistening through them, far on high,
The summer sun went down the sky.
The strange, low notes that nature blends,
Like soothing words of ancient friends,
Came gently on my soul:
A child once more, I heard the bee,
The bird, the wind, the whispering tree,
And that unearthly harmony O"er all my senses stole;
Till, stretched along the hillock"s side,
I dreamed, and in my dream I died.
With one short moment"s bursting strife,
My spirit upward sprung;
But on the verge of either life
Yet one short moment hung:
Above the dead I seemed to bow,
I seemed to touch the clay-cold brow,
And close the fading eye,
And still the murmuring branches stirred,
And, soaring still, the forest bird
Sent out its joyous cry.
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