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Death -- the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening.
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Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
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Ridicule often checks what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that which is noble.
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Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.
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Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land!
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