Classic Poem

My days among the Dead are passed,
—Around me I behold,
Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
—The mighty minds of old:
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal,
—And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
—How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedewed
With tears of thoughtful gratitude.

My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
—I live in long-past years,
Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
—Partake their hopes and fears;
And from their lessons seek and find
Instruction with an humble mind.

My hopes are with the Dead; anon
—My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
—Through all Futurity;
Yet leaving here a name, I trust,
That will not perish in the dust.