Sepulchral Life

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Sepulchral Life

Lo, all the world as some vast corpse long dead,

Fadeth and perisheth and doth decay,

Even as a corpse, in whose unhonor’d clay

The worms have long the inmost secrets read;

Even as a corpse, upon whose lowly head

The sun beats, and the holy rain doth play;

Even as a corpse, whereof the people say,

—We would that these dead bones were buried.

Even so: and in the earth’s vast sepulchre

Our fainting souls their doubtful footsteps bear,

Dreaming of that which no dead men may see;

And in our passage to the second death,

We whisper strange names with our pesty breath,

Of Love, and Honour, and great Victory.