HERE lies a common man. His horny hands, Crossed meekly as a maid's upon his breast, Show marks of toil, and by his general dress You judge him to have been an artizan. Doubtless, could all his life be written out, The story would not thrill nor start a tear; He worked, laughed, loved, and suffered in his time, And now rests peacefully, with upturned face Whose look belies all struggle in the past. A homely tale: yet, trust me, I have seen The greatest of the earth go stately by, While shouting multitudes beset the way, With less of awe. The gap between a king And me, a nameless gazer in the crowd, Seemed not so wide as that which stretches now Betwixt us two, this dead one and myself. Untitled, dumb, and deedless, yet he is Transfigured by a touch from out the skies Until he wears, with all-unconscious grace, The strange and sudden Dignity of Death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PENDULUM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THAT VAGRANT MISTRAL VEXING THE SUN: A FAR CRY by DARA WIER TIME, REAL AND IMAGINARY; AN ALLEGORY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE RUNES ON WELAND'S SWORD by RUDYARD KIPLING |