Iii

I saw a dead corpse making a strange cry, With dead feet planted on a high tomb's floor; The dead stand round, with faces that implore; His dead hands bless them, stretched forth on high.

--And art thou God?--and art thou majesty?-- And art thou he whom all the dead adore?-- And art thou he that hath the skies in store?-- Nay, nay, dead dust, dead dust, and vanity.

And wouldst thou rise up to the lighted sky?-- Nay, nay, thy limbs are rotten on the floor; Thou shalt not out from thy polluted sty;

Thou wouldst become divinity once more, Thou dreamest of splendour that shall never die And in thy heart the worms lie evermore.