Classic Poem

The mountains have a peace which none disturb —
The stars and clouds a course which none restrain —
The wild sea-waves rejoice without a curb,
And rest without a passion; but the chain
Of Death, upon this ghastly cliff and chasm
Is broken evermore, to bind again,
Nor lulls nor looses. Hark! a voice of pain
Suddenly silenced; — a quick passing spasm,
That startles rest, but grants not liberty, —
A shudder, or a struggle, or a cry —
And then sepulchral stillness. Look on us,
God! who hast given these hills their place of pride,
If Death's captivity be sleepless thus,
For those who sink to it unsanctified.