The end of toil is gain, the end of gain is pleasure,
Pleasure tendeth unto waste, and waste commandeth toil.
So, is death an end,—but it breedeth an infinite beginning;
Limits are for time, and death killed time: Eternity's beginning is for ever.
Ambition, hath it any goal indeed? is not all fruition, disappointment?
A step upon the ladder, and another, and another,—we start from every end?
Look to the eras of mortality, babe, student, man,
The husband, the father, the death-bed of a saint,—and is it then an end?
That common climax, Death, shall it lead to nothing?
How strong a root of causes flowering a consequence of vapour: