Thomas Hood

Thomas Hood

May 23, 1799 - May 3, 1845


It is not death, that sometime in a sigh...

by Thomas Hood

It is not death, that sometime in a sigh
This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;
That sometime these bright stars, that now reply
In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;
That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,
And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow;
That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal spright
Be lapped in alien clay and laid below;
It is not death to know this, -- but to know
That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves
In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go
So duly and so oft, -- and when grass waves
Over the past-away, there may be then
No resurrection in the minds of men.


The Poetical Works Of Thomas Hood
Copyright 1861
Boston: Crosby, Nichols, Lee and Company

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