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Death Author(s): Thomas Hood Source: The Lotus Magazine, Vol. 1, No. 5 (May, 1910), p. 25 Published by: Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20543225 . Accessed: 17/05/2014 05:02 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected]. . http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 193.104.110.110 on Sat, 17 May 2014 05:02:11 AM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Death

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Page 1: Death

DeathAuthor(s): Thomas HoodSource: The Lotus Magazine, Vol. 1, No. 5 (May, 1910), p. 25Published by:Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20543225 .

Accessed: 17/05/2014 05:02

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

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http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 193.104.110.110 on Sat, 17 May 2014 05:02:11 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Page 2: Death

Death. at By Thomas Hood. (1 798-1845.)

IT is not death, that sometime in a sigh

This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;

That sometime these bright stars, that now reply

In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;

That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,

And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow;

That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite

Be lapp'd in alien clay and laid below;

It is not death to know this-but to know

That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves

In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go

So duly and so oft-and when grass waves

Over the pass'd-away, there may be then

No resurrection in the minds of men.

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