And ’mid the strife of earth’s rude elements,
Peace, like a gentle rill. Yea, more than all,
Irradiates the tomb, and scatters flowers
Upon its pathway; bears from death its sting;
Throws open wide the “everlasting doors,”
As earth recedes, and such an antepast
Of endless glory gives, the pinioned one
Scarce lingers for the severing of the chain,
But panting, flutt’ring, seems to strive to flee!
Smiles on the dying lip, light in the eye,