1 When life as opening buds is sweet, <br />2 And golden hopes the fancy greet, <br />3 And Youth prepares his joys to meet,-- <br />4 Alas! how hard it is to die! <br /> <br />5 When just is seized some valued prize, <br />6 And duties press, and tender ties <br />7 Forbid the soul from earth to rise,-- <br />8 How awful then it is to die! <br /> <br />9 When, one by one, those ties are torn, <br />10 And friend from friend is snatched forlorn, <br />11 And man is left alone to mourn,-- <br />12 Ah then, how easy 'tis to die! <br /> <br />13 When faith is firm, and conscience clear, <br />14 And words of peace the spirit cheer, <br />15 And visioned glories half appear,-- <br />16 'Tis joy, 'tis triumph then to die. <br /> <br />17 When trembling limbs refuse their weight, <br />18 And films, slow gathering, dim the sight, <br />19 And clouds obscure the mental light,-- <br />20 'Tis nature's precious boon to die.<br /><br />Anna Lætitia Barbauld<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-thought-on-death-november-1814/
