Nothing That Can Die

NOTHING that we deem can dieHas any thought of death:The mortal thing, without a sigh—Without reproachful plaint or cry—Yields scarcely conscious breath;The coming sleep to it the sameAs that from which it all-unknowing came.

But spirit cannot so resignA hope that o'er the depths of sorrowLike to a star remains: a signThat strengthens, by its beam divine,To-day with promise of To-morrow!Nay; longing, vital, and foreseeing,Itself becomes a pledge of deathless being.