This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule; Life's theatre as yet is shut, and death, Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free.
Edward Young (1823). “Night Thoughts on Life, Death & Immortality: To which is Added a Paraphrase on Part of the Book of Job, and the Last Day, a Poem”, p.4
