Someone I know is in the process of dying and it is a struggle. I worked for a while as a spiritual counselor for the local hospice, and I saw dying people and their families deal with it in many ways. My own father died just a couple of years ago, and I know it is not always an easy process to undergo or to witness.When I was in school we read "Thanatopsis" by William Cullen Bryant. He wrote part of the poem when he was 17 and, as I recall, in poor health. He later expanded it. We read it, I suppose, my junior year, because that was the year we did American literature. I would have been sixteen or seventeen, which may be one reason it struck me so much. I memorized its most famous lines and and they pop to mind at the oddest moments.
This afternoon was one of those times. The lines I recall are these:
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
The innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
I know this is not the attitude recommended by Dylan Thomas:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And to each her or his own in dealing with this mystery. I have never been much at raging, and I hope I go lying down to pleasant dreams.
Read more at http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/thanatopsis.html#aDeqse1XHraKxlyj.99
Read more at http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/thanatopsis.html#aDeqse1XHraKxlyj.99
So live that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Read more at http://quotes.dictionary.com/So_live_that_when_thy_summons_comes_to#A7W7mmIUs1maADKx.99
The innumerable caravan that moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Read more at http://quotes.dictionary.com/So_live_that_when_thy_summons_comes_to#A7W7mmIUs1maADKx.99
1 comment:
I remember reading this poem too; it is worth a reread every once in a while.
I recently learned the word 'threnody" Nice word.
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