O Wholesome Death.

O Wholesome Death, thy sombre funeral-car
    Looms ever dimly on the lengthening way
    Of life; while, lengthening still, in sad array,
My deeds in long procession go, that are
As mourners of the man they helped to mar.
    I see it all in dreams, such as waylay
    The wandering fancy when the solid day
Has fallen in smoldering ruins, and night's star,
Aloft there, with its steady point of light
    Mastering the eye, has wrapped the brain in sleep.
Ah, when I die, and planets take their flight
    Above my grave, still let my spirit keep
Sometimes its vigil of divine remorse,
'Midst pity, praise, or blame heaped o'er my corse!