"So live, that, when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan, which moves to that mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death, thou go not, like the quarry-slave, at night, scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, like one who draws the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to plesant dreams."  
"So live, that, when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan, which moves to that mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death, thou go not, like the quarry-slave, at night, scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, like one who draws the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to plesant dreams."  So ends, FTP, what poem by William Cullen Bryant?
"So live, that, when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan, which moves to that mysterious realm, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death, thou go not, like the quarry-slave, at night, scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, like one who draws the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to plesant dreams."  
Thanatopsis