Death. A Dialogue
Soul.
'TIS
a
sad
Land,
that
in
one
day
Hath
dull'd
thee
thus
;
when
death
shall
freeze
Thy
blood
to
ice,
and
thou
must
stay
Tenant
for
years,
and
centuries
;
How
wilt
thou
brook't
?
Body.
I
cannot
tell
;
But
if
all
sense
wings
not
with
thee,
And
something
still
be
left
the
dead,
I'll
wish
my
curtains
off,
to
free
Me
from
so
dark
and
sad
a
bed
:
A
nest
of
nights,
a
gloomy
sphere,
Where
shadows
thicken,
and
the
cloud
Sits
on
the
sun's
brow
all
the
year,
And
nothing
moves
without
a
shroud.
Soul.
'Tis
so
:
but
as
thou
saw'st
that
night
We
travail'd
in,
our
first
attempts
Were
dull
and
blind,
but
custom
straight
Our
fears
and
falls
brought
to
contempt
:
Then,
when
the
ghastly
twelve
was
past,
We
breath'd
still
for
a
blushing
East,
And
bade
the
lazy
sun
make
haste,
And
on
sure
hopes,
though
long,
did
feast.
But
when
we
saw
the
clouds
to
crack,
And
in
those
crannies
light
appear'd,
We
thought
the
day
then
was
not
slack,
And
pleas'd
ourselves
with
what
we
fear'd.
Just
so
it
is
in
death.
But
thou
Shalt
in
thy
mother's
bosom
sleep,
Whilst
I
each
minute
groan
to
know
How
near
Redemption
creeps.
Then
shall
wee
meet
to
mix
again,
and
met,
'Tis
last
good-night
;
our
Sun
shall
never
set.
JOB,
CAP.
IO.
VER.
21,
22.
Before
I
go
whence
I
shall
not
return,
even
to
the
land
of
darkness,
and
the
shadow
of
death
;
A
Land
of
darkness,
as
darkness
itself,
and
of
the
shadow
of
death,
without
any
order,
and
where
the
light
is
as
darkness.
