“When spectral silence pointeth to decay,
How preacheth wisdom to the conscious breast?
Saying—‘Each foot that roameth here shall rest.
To God and Heaven, Death is the only way.’”
Were she wavering and doubtful, he would say—
“Oh! my friend,
That your faith were as mine—that thou couldst see
Death still producing life, and evil still
Working its own destruction—couldst behold
The strifes and tumults of this troubled world