Poems (Blake)/Dead
For works with similar titles, see Dead.
DEAD!
Dead! That is the word That rings through my brain till it crazes! Dead; while the Mayflowers bud and blow, While the green creeps over the white of the snow,While the wild woods ring with the song of the bird, And the fields are a-bloom with daisies!
See! Even the clod Thrills, with life's glad passion shaken; The vagabond weeds with their vagrant train Laugh in the sun and nod in the rain,The blue sky smiles like the eye of God,— Only my dead do not waken!
Dead!⁁There is the word That I sit in the darkness and ponder! Why should the river, the sky, and the sea Babble of summer and joy to me, While a strong true heart with its pulse unstirred Lies hushed in the silence yonder?
Lord! Lord! How long Ere we rise to Thy heights supernal Ere the soul may read what Thy spirit saith; "Life that must fade, is not life but death.Lift up thine eyes O soul! Be strong; For Death is the Life Eternal!"