A thirst for immortality!
And could I write one line
That after days might not let die,
But lisp it when in earth I lie,
And call it mine ,
Then would I live content to be
My life-time in obscurity;
Then would I die content, although
All else of me to nothing go.

Strange thirst — to live in a few words,
Yet of it not to know!
To bear the slights that life affords,
And all the much-hoped-for rewards
Of Heaven forego:
All for this unfel life in death —
No life to me, but others' breath! —
I'll thirst no more, but easy be
About this vague futurity.

Had we not Shakspeare with us still;
This life were little worth:
And many a song comes, like a rill,
To slake our parched souls when ill
With pains of earth.
'Tis good and right to minister
To others' wants, and make a stir
To push the work of mind along —
E'en by the cheering of a song.

But if't be fame thou singest for,
O sing not; only sing
When the full heart is running o'er
With Nature's spirit, — but no more;
And then thou'lt bring
That to the needy earth it needs,
As rain or dew to summer meads.
God knows when earth wants, and will make
A spring from thy soul's cistern break.

And if this thirst, at any time,
For after-life, in thee
Arise, seek not for it in rhyme,
Nor any trouble take to climb;
Already we
Have that within which shall outlive
The longest fame that earth can give:
O know, thy soul — that fount of thought —
Shall be when the great name is nought.