Classic Poem

I ENVY not the dead that rest,
— The souls that sing and fly;
Not for the sake of all the Blest,
— Am I content to die.

If ever men were laid in earth,
— And might in earth repose,
Where spirits have no second birth —
— Those, those, I envy, those.

My being would I gladly give,
— Rejoicing to be freed;
But if for ever I must live,
— Then let me live indeed.

What peace could ever be to me
— The joy that strives with strife?
What blissful immortality
— So sweet as struggling life?