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.