Why be afraid of death,
As though your life were breath?
Death but anoints your eyes
with clay. O glad surprise.

Why should ye be forlorn?
Death only husks the corn.
Why should you fear to meet
The thresher of the wheat?

Is sleep a thing to dread?
Yet sleeping you are dead
Till you awake and rise,
Here, or beyond the skies.

Why should it be a wrench
To leave your wooden bench!
Why not, with happy shout,
Run home when school is out!

The dear ones left behind?
Oh, foolish one and blind!
A day and you will meet--
A night and you will greet.

This is the death of death
To breathe away a breath
And know the end of strife,
And taste the deathless life,

And joy without a fear,
And smile without a tear;
And work, nor care to rest,
And find the last the best.