One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Nature hath no goal though she hath law.
Now God comes to thee, not as in the dawning of the day, not as in the bud of the spring, but as the sun at noon to illustrate all shadows, as the sheaves in harvest, to fill all penuries, all occasions invite his mercies, and all times are his seasons.
My world's both parts, and 'o! Both parts must die.
I did best when I had least truth for my subjects.
And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.