'Tis said, when Schiller's death drew nigh, <br />The wish possessed his mighty mind, <br />To wander forth wherever lie <br />The homes and haunts of human-kind. <br /> <br />Then strayed the poet, in his dreams, <br />By Rome and Egypt's ancient graves; <br />Went up the New World's forest streams, <br />Stood in the Hindoo's temple-caves; <br /> <br />Walked with the Pawnee, fierce and stark, <br />The sallow Tartar, midst his herds, <br />The peering Chinese, and the dark <br />False Malay uttering gentle words. <br /> <br />How could he rest? even then he trod <br />The threshold of the world unknown; <br />Already, from the seat of God, <br />A ray upon his garments shone;-- <br /> <br />Shone and awoke the strong desire <br />For love and knowledge reached not here, <br />Till, freed by death, his soul of fire <br />Sprang to a fairer, ampler sphere. <br /> <br />Then--who shall tell how deep, how bright <br />The abyss of glory opened round? <br />How thought and feeling flowed like light, <br />Through ranks of being without bound?<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-death-of-schiller/
