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A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General
13:04 Oct 31 2006
Times Read: 566

His Grace! impossible! what dead!

Of old age too, and in his bed!

And could that mighty warrior fall?

And so inglorious, after all!

Well, since he's gone, no matter how,

The last loud trump must wake him now:

And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger,

He'd wish to sleep a little longer.

And could he be indeed so old

As by the newspapers we're told?

Threescore, I think, is pretty high;

'Twas time in conscience he should die.

This world he cumbered long enough;

He burnt his candle to the snuff;

And that's the reason, some folks think,

He left behind so great a s---k.

Behold his funeral appears,

Nor widow's sighs, nor orphan's tears,

Wont at such times each heart to pierce,

Attend the progress of his hearse.

But what of that, his friends may say,

He had those honors in his day.

True to his profit and his pride,

He made them weep before he died.

Come hither, all ye empty things,

Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings;

Who float upon the tide of state,

Come hither, and behold your fate.

Let pride be taught by this rebuke,

How very mean a thing's a Duke;

From all his ill-got honors flung,

Turned to that dirt from whence he sprung

...
13:00 Oct 31 2006
Times Read: 567




Because I could not stop for Death—

He kindly stopped for me—

The Carriage held but just Ourselves—

And Immortality.



We slowly drove—He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility—



We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess—in the Ring—

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain—

We passed the Setting Sun—



Or rather—he passed us—

The Dews drew quivering & chill—

For only Gossamer, my Gown—

My Tippet—only Tulle—



We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground—

The Roof was scarcely visible—

The Cornice—in the Ground—



Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity—