Rachel's Blog

Thursday, 27 November 2008

Death Poem

Death

    DEATH is a road our dearest friends have gone;
    Why with such leaders, fear to say, "Lead on?"
    Its gate repels, lest it too soon be tried,
    But turns in balm on the immortal side.
    Mothers have passed it: fathers, children; men
    Whose like we look not to behold again;
    Women that smiled away their loving breath;
    Soft is the travelling on the road to death!
    But guilt has passed it? men not fit to die?
    O, hush -- for He that made us all is by!
    Human we're all -- all men, all born of mothers;
    All our own selves in the worn-out shape of others;
    Our used, and oh, be sure, not to be ill-used brothers!
    James Leigh Hunt

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