No evil thoughts give birth to evil things,
But many birds of every varied plume
Delight the ear with sweetest melody;
And many flowers of every varied tint
Fill all the air with odors rich and sweet;
And many fruits, suited to every taste,
Hang ripe and ready that who will may eat--
A world of life, with all its lights and shades,
The bright original of our sad world
Without its sin and storms, its thorns and tears.
No Lethe's sluggish waters lave its shores,
Nor solemn shades, of poet's fancy bred,
Sit idly here to boast of battles past,
Nor wailing ghosts wring here their shadowy hands
For lack of honor to their cast-off dust;
But living men, in human bodies clothed--
Not bodies made of matter, dull and coarse,
Dust from the dust and soon to dust returned,
But living bodies, clothing living souls,
Bodies responsive to the spirit's will,
Clothing in acts the spirit's inmost thoughts--
Dwell here in many mansions, large and fair,
Stretching beyond the keenest vision's hen,
With room for each and more than room for all,
Forever filling and yet never full.
Not clogged by matter, fast as fleetest birds,
Wishing to go, they go; to come, they come.
No helpless infancy or palsied age,
But all in early manhood's youthful bloom,
The old grown young, the child to man's estate.