Thanatopsis

To him who in the love of nature holds
______ with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; ______ his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, ______ a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
______ his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, ______ steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When ______
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
______ thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, ______ shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;—
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around—
Earth and her waters, ______ the depths of air,—
Comes a still voice—
                               Yet a few days, and thee  
The all-beholding ______ shall see no more
In all his course; nor ______ in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, ______ exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
______ growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost ______ human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou ______
To mix for ever with the elements,
To be ______ brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and ______ upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and ______ thy mould.
     
     Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone—nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,
The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good,
______ forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in ______ mighty sepulchre.—The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,—the vales
Sketching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods—rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That ______ the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's ______ and melancholy waste,—
Are but the solemn decorations ______
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
______ planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining ______ the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse ______ ages. All that tread
The globe are but a ______ to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.—Take ______ wings
Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose ______ in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregan, and ______ no sound,
Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there:
______ millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of ______ began, have laid them down
In their last sleep—the ______ reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest—and what if ______ withdraw
Unheeded by the living—and no friend
Take note ______ thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. ______ gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn ______ of care
Plod on, and each one as before ______ chase
His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
______ mirth and their employments, and shall come,
And make ______ bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages ______ away, the sons of men,
The youth in life's ______ spring, and he who goes
In the full strength ______ years, matron, and maid,
And the sweet babe, and ______ gray-headed man,—
Shall one by one be gathered ______ thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall ______ them.
     So live, that when thy summons comes ______ join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent ______ of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By ______ unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps ______ drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down ______ pleasant dreams.

And Communion Fair Into Over The The Their Thy a all an and and and brood dead each follow for glide go gray green halls handful hears make of of of on one pierce shall sun that the the the their thou thoughts thyself to to to treads will years yet