Eaton Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1843-1856, 1855-08-02
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WHEN I AM DEAD.

In The dim crypts Of the heart, where despair
nbideth, these words seem written. strange
meaning-a solemn intimstion unfolds II al
their utterance. Four simple monosyiobles
how much of gloom 'e convey How ye
speak in funeral tones of the extinguishment
Of earthly hopes-of The spirit that hath slrug-
gled in vain, and is painfully quiet now!
"When lam dead % is uttered calmly, but
what calm Such as tornado leaves whln
silence broods over desolation. The voice
pronouncing that despairng phrase, has not
all its mournfulness from itself. The listening
ear hears something more for from those
words the groan Of high aspirations quenched,
and hopes pale and bleeding upon The sharp
rocks OF adversely, come up phantom like, anu
the ghas,ly scenes Of the buried past,
"When / am dead i" We have heard 1t otien,
that tolls the BODY Of the departed 10 its final
rest, The last word "DEA2," fingers strange
Iy, and echoes sadly in the ear, and through
portals of the sympathsing soul. Dead deda,
pEAp-and The world grows gray, and the heaft
stills, and the eye mois'ens TO That souhu. g,
The spirit trembles before the rushing flood
of conaicting emotions which follow the darS
echo. and the essay 20 glance through its i'm
mort. But the echo fades amid encircllng
mist, and the spirit turns back confused with
blindness.
Even The echo nf death cannot be pene' rated.
the few feel of a mould that composes the
grave, are wider than the globe, higher thnn
The stars. Not the minds eye nor the anxious
soul can glance the barrer-the boundary
between Time and Eternity.
"Whcn am dead !" More or less sign'ties
resignation OF dependent woe, fulhIlment oil
nature, or perversion Of lis end, may these
words EXPRESS, though sad they are al last.
When The aged man, whose steps have growr
feeble in the walks of goodness, and whose
hands tremble with the fruit of his oft giveT
charity, utter these words they fall from ih'
Inns as q prayer to heaven. III them his VII
harnonizes with his destiny; and the tear tha
starts for q superior soul about 10 leave IL
clay, glistens in the light of happiness tha
CLEANS out Of the heart, at the prospective re
ward of the future.
The lips, too, that never pressed The rim
the font of Natures Poesy, may murmur-
"Whtn ! am dead % but death TO such an on
is better, perhaps, than life. His heart hold
no music, Ginning in cadences TO veal an
woe his inward existence is void, and The roug
surface of his being checkered, though nc
Frightened by the half stray thought, darken
but little with the panoply Of the tomb.
How different, when youth glowing vii
the treasures oil mlnu, anu Wulm Win SySht'1
thy for all loveliness, sighs like the south wln'
"When / am dead !" A spirit seems to wa
its anthem, an eclipse of The noonlide sun
fall upon the picture of high nature checke
in its purposes-turned from dulcet wav'
upon cofal reef, against the rocks OF d'
strucive shore.
"When / am dead :" 1t is as mourni
as the plant OF ghost on the tempest a.
midnight wind. But we must say it son
time for the grave lies at hand, yawnll
through bed Of thorns or cleaning like
white avenue Of hope leaning against Il
stars.
"When I am dead i" Strange and fearl
import hath it 10 the utterer, but il is lei
phrase only others, the world. Whosspea
liz many think the single going forth oil a so
will move none-all will be as before.
When he, and you, and we gentle reade
are folded in our Shrouds, friends dearest
those who loved US best, will dry their tel
ere they have all begun TO flow. The he
that beats with rapture against our own, -"
freeze above our memory in brief time-Orle
aaan voman's tLuSt OF mans period oil goC
mess.
But il is we'll thus Ills the worlds Gust
and natures law. We weep not for The dt
Sbut while they die. We shall soon be W
them; and it may be good we 60 early 10 II
marrow home,