Tuesday, October 24, 2017 5:57:38 PM
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.
You are the embodiment of this poem, whereas I have not completely
come to grips with some things in my past.
Even though we've never met.....Godspeed.
Bob
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