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Alfred Lord Tennyson - In Memoriam 82: I Wage Not Any Feud With Death
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I wage not any feud with Death
For changes wrought on form and face;
No lower life that earth`s embrace
May breed with him, can fright my faith. 

Eternal process moving on,
From state to state the spirit walks;
And these are but the shatter`d stalks,
Or ruin`d chrysalis of one. 

Nor blame I Death, because he bare
The use of virtue out of earth:
I know transplanted human worth
Will bloom to profit, otherwhere. 

For this alone on Death I wreak
The wrath that garners in my heart;
He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.
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