Poor soul doth to the body say:
I’ll never leave thee, but I’ll stay
With thee; yea, I with thee will sink
In death and night, destruction drink.
Thou ever wert my second I,
And round me clungest lovingly,
As though a dress of satin bright,
All lined throughout with ermine white—
Alas! I’ve come to nakedness,
A mere abstraction, bodiless,
Reduced a blessèd nullity
In yon bright realms of light to be,
In the cold halls of heaven up yonder,
Where the Immortals silent wander,
And gape upon me, clatt’ring by
In leaden slippers wearily.
’Tis quite intolerable; stay,
Stay with me, my dear body, pray.
The body to poor soul replied:
Cheer up, be not dissatisfied!
We peacefully must learn to bear
What Fate apportions as our share.
I was the lamp’s wick; I must now
Consume away; the spirit, thou,
Wilt be selected by-and-by
To sparkle as a star on high
Of purest radiance. I’m but rags.
Mere stuff, like rotten tinder bags,
Collapsing fast, and nothing worth,
Becoming, what I was, mere earth.
Farewell! take comfort, cease complaining;
Perchance ’tis far more entertaining
In heaven than now supposed by thee.
If thou shouldst e’er the great bear see
(Not Meyer-beer) in those bright climes,
Greet him from me a thousand times.