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