INCARNATION.
Though part and parcel of the past
The future is an unknown book—
Though writing for eternity,
I dare not on its pages look.
My past is dead, and buried too.
In grave of Hope it lies full deep;
It resurrected ne’er shall be,
It is a nightmare of my sleep.
Will life’s fair morning never come?
I wait for it impatiently.
And Death’s long sleep I fain would break
With all its gruesome mystery.
I pray to go forever on,
Retracing ne’er earth’s steps again.
Incarnate once, and only once,
I would not live on earth again.