Three Extracts
Tell me not in mournful numbers
Life is but an empty dream
And the soul is dead that slumbers
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real, life is earnest
And the grave is at its goal;
Dust through art to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
For who am I to take away
The dawning of another day,
When in that day the Truth may form
The dawning of another dawn.