And if a bullet in the midst of strife
Should still the pulse of this unquiet life
Twere well: be death an everlasting rest,
I oft could yearn for it, by cares opprest ;
And be 't a night that brings another day,
I still could go rejoicing on my way,
Desiring in no phantom heav'n to dwell.
Nor scared with terror of any phantom hell.
But gazing now I find not death a curse
Better than life perchance, at least not worse ;
Only the fierce and rending agony,
The torment of the flesh about to die.
Affrights my soul ; but that shall pass anon,
And death's repose or strife be found, that gone;
Only with that last earthly ill to cope
God grant me strength, and I go forth with hope.