Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Alexander Pope, THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL


    I don't think this poem needs any introduction. Go down and read the last two lines first if you don't believe me!

    VITAL spark of heav'nly flame!
    Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
    Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
    O the pain, the bliss of dying!
    Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
    And let me languish into life.
     
    Hark! they whisper; angels say,
    Sister Spirit, come away!
    What is this absorbs me quite?
    Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
    Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?
    Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
     
    The world recedes; it disappears!
    Heav'n opens my eyes! my ears
    With sounds seraphic ring!
    Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
    O Grave! where is thy victory?
    O Death! where is thy sting?

No comments:

Post a Comment