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the one dark thought.
"Alas! to be consign'd to earth,
To moulder there, and feed the worm!
What now is nobleness of birth—
Or what is loveliness of form?
Up to her mother's face she raised
Her death-dimm'd and reproachful eye,
And her last words were, as she gazed—
"You never taught me how to die!"
To moulder there, and feed the worm!
What now is nobleness of birth—
Or what is loveliness of form?
Up to her mother's face she raised
Her death-dimm'd and reproachful eye,
And her last words were, as she gazed—
"You never taught me how to die!"
And 'tis those words her heart consume
With keen remorse, till life's a wreck—
For still she hears them from the tomb
With fearful import tremble back!
And when appears a maiden fraught
With all that glads a parent's eye,
She, of the one corrosive thought,
Says, "Teach her, teach her how to die!
With keen remorse, till life's a wreck—
For still she hears them from the tomb
With fearful import tremble back!
And when appears a maiden fraught
With all that glads a parent's eye,
She, of the one corrosive thought,
Says, "Teach her, teach her how to die!
"Teach her how brief the space which lies
Between the cradle and the tomb;
That spirit beauty most to prize,
Which triumphs in immortal bloom;
How life can be with joy resign'd,
And never-ending pleasures won
These teach her, parents, or you'll find
The 'Tekel' stamp'd on all you've done."
Between the cradle and the tomb;
That spirit beauty most to prize,
Which triumphs in immortal bloom;
How life can be with joy resign'd,
And never-ending pleasures won
These teach her, parents, or you'll find
The 'Tekel' stamp'd on all you've done."
