NIGHT on the prairies; The supper is overâ€”the fire on the ground burns low; The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets: I walk by myselfâ€”I stand and look at the stars, which I think now I never realized before.
Now I absorb immortality and peace, I admire death, and test propositions.
I was thinking the day most splendid, till I saw what the not-day exhibited, I was thinking this globe enough, till there sprang out so noiseless around me myriads of other globes.
Now, while the great thoughts of space and eternity fill me, I will measure myself by them; And now, touchâ€™d with the lives of other globes, arrived as far along as those of the earth, Or waiting to arrive, or passâ€™d on farther than those of the earth, I henceforth no more ignore them, than I ignore my own life, Or the lives of the earth arrived as far as mine, or waiting to arrive.
O I see now that life cannot exhibit all to meâ€”as the day cannot, I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.