No chronic tortures racked his aged limb,
For luxury and sloth had nourished none for him. [Yes, that is all true.]
“And I am glad that he has lived thus long,
And glad that he has gone to his reward;
Nor deem that kindly nature did him wrong,
Softly to disengage the vital cord, [O, how softly, how sweetly, is the cord disengaging!]
When his weak hand grew palsied, and his eye
Dark with the mists of age, it was his time to die.” [Yes, it was his time to die; remember this; do not look sad or mournful; it is his time to die.]
LOVE OF FLOWERS AND MUSIC.