282 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
And what erring men call death Is renewal of our breath. Just as vapors from the main Soar in mist that sank in rain, So in death life shall not rust, But, exhaled from worthless dust, From earth's bosom it shall rise O'er again to greet the skies. And its Almighty Author bless. Father of life and happiness. Farewell, sweet Assabet ! I see Pictured in ocean, and in thee, An emblem of eternity.
��TO AN ALCHEMIST,
SEEKING THE ELIXIR OF LIFE.
And wouldst thou seek, misguided man To immortalize this earthly life —
A life, even now, whose little span Suffices for unending strife ?
O, spare thy labor, lest I see
Man's direst enemy in thee.
Full soon, even now, our years grow old ;
Life's joys are spent before its breath ; And, long before the blood grows cold.
The heart is oft consigned to death. Should fate forget life's thread to sever. Then guilt and grief would last forever.
Teach how to kill both time and care ; Then will I hail thee as a friend !
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