A Thought On Death
When life as opening buds is sweet,
And golden hopes the fancy greet,
And Youth prepares his joys to meet,--
Alas! how hard it is to die!
When just is seized some valued prize,
And duties press, and tender ties
Forbid the soul from earth to rise,--
How awful then it is to die!
When, one by one, those ties are torn,
And friend from friend is snatched forlorn,
And man is left alone to mourn,--
Ah then, how easy 'tis to die!
When faith is firm, and conscience clear,
And words of peace the spirit cheer,
And visioned glories half appear,--
'Tis joy, 'tis triumph then to die.
When trembling limbs refuse their weight,
And films, slow gathering, dim the sight,
And clouds obscure the mental light,--
'Tis nature's precious boon to die.
-- Anna Lætitia Barbauld
Rest in peace, Papi. Now you really will grow younger with each passing day, if only in our memories. Already the wheelchair and sluggishness are making way for sailing trips with a little Teckel and an oversized orange life vest, unconventional duet versions of Claude Debussy's Claire de Lune on the piano, long road trips along tortuous mountain roads, and mortifying recordings of Edelweiss in a questionable attempt to give you the von Trapp family. Here's one for you, who loved it best of all:
(Photo taken by Dad)
Thank you for believing in me more than anyone else.
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