“Why am I deemed an enemy of men

Who would beyond Life’s limit life prolong?

If they believe that they will live again,

How can it be that I have done them wrong?

Is it not I who rout the Winter snows,

And Spring’s melodious symphonies renew,

Bring back the blush unto the budding rose,

And christen Summer’s birth with morning dew?

‘Tis I that ring the silvery nuptial peal,

When streams the Bridal up the rustic nave,

And if around the bier where mourners kneel

I toll the passing-bell and dig the grave,

From death and grief I half dispel the gloom,

Inscribing words of hope upon the loved one’s tomb.”