The dull nights go over and the dull days also, The soreness of lying so much in bed goes over, The physician after long putting off gives the silent and terrible look for an answer, The children come hurried and weeping, and the brothers and sisters are sent for,
Medicines stand unused on the shelf, ( the camphor-smell has long pervaded the rooms,) The faithful hand of the living does not desert the hand of the dying, The twitching lips press lightly on the forehead of the dying, The breath ceases and the pulse of the heart ceases,
The corpse stretches on the bed and the living look upon it, It is palpable as the living are palpable. Steady the trot to the cemetery, duly rattles the death-bell, The gate is pass'd, the new-dug grave is halted at, the living alight, the hearse uncloses,
The coffin is pass'd out, lower'd and settled, the whip is laid on the coffin, the earth is swiftly shovel'd in, The mound above is flatted with the spades — silence, A minute — no one moves or speaks — it is done, He is decently put away — is there any thing more?
He was a good fellow, free-mouth'd, quick-temper'd, not bad-looking, Ready with life or death for a friend, fond of women, gambled, ate hearty, drank hearty, Had known what it was to be flush, grew low-spirited toward the last, sicken'd, was help'd by a contribution, Died, aged forty-one years — and that was his funeral.
To think how much pleasure there is, Do you enjoy yourself in the city? or engaged in business? or planning a nomination and election? or with your wife and family? Or with your mother and sisters? or in womanly housework? or the beautiful maternal cares? These also flow onward to others, you and I flow onward,
But in due time you and I shall take less interest in them. The domestic joys, the dally housework or business, the building of houses, are not phantasms, they have weight, form, location, Farms, profits, crops, markets, wages, government, are none of them phantasms, The difference between sin and goodness is no delusion,
The earth is not an echo, man and his life and all the things of his life are well-consider'd. It is not to diffuse you that you were born of your mother and father, it is to identify you, It is not that you should be undecided, but that you should be decided, Something long preparing and formless is arrived and form'd in you,
You are henceforth secure, whatever comes or goes. The threads that were spun are gather'd, the wet crosses the warp, the pattern is systematic. The law of the past cannot be eluded, The law of the present and future cannot be eluded,
The law of the living cannot be eluded, it is eternal, The law of promotion and transformation cannot be eluded, The law of heroes and good-doers cannot be eluded, The law of drunkards, informers, mean persons, not one iota thereof can be eluded.
Slow moving and black lines go ceaselessly over the earth, Northerner goes carried and Southerner goes carried, and they on the Atlantic side and they on the Pacific, And they between, and all through the Mississippi country, and all over the earth.
The interminable hordes of the ignorant and wicked are not nothing, The barbarians of Africa and Asia are not nothing, The perpetual successions of shallow people are not nothing as they go. Of and in all these things,
I have dream'd that we are not to be changed so much, nor the law of us changed, I have dream'd that heroes and good-doers shall be under the present and past law, And that murderers, drunkards, liars, shall be under the present and past law, For I have dream'd that the law they are under now is enough.
If all came but to ashes of dung, If maggots and rats ended us, then Alarum! for we are betray'd, Then indeed suspicion of death. Do you suspect death? if I were to suspect death I should die now,
Do you think I could walk pleasantly and well-suited toward annihilation? Pleasantly and well-suited I walk, Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good, The whole universe indicates that it is good,
The past and the present indicate that it is good. How beautiful and perfect are the animals! How perfect the earth, and the minutest thing upon it! What is called good is perfect, and what is called bad is just as perfect,
The vegetables and minerals are all perfect, and the imponderable fluids perfect; Slowly and surely they have pass'd on to this, and slowly and surely they yet pass on.
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