Alas! that while the beautiful and strong, The pious and the wise, the grave and gay, All journey downward by one common way, Bewailed and honoured yet with flowers and song, There must come crowding with that serious throng, Jostling the ranks of that discreet array, Infirm and scullion spirits of decay, The dull, the droll, the random and the wrong. An ape in church, an artificial limb Tacked to a marble god serene and blind -- For such as BRASH, high death was not designed, That canonising rite was not for him; Nor where the Martyr and the Hero trod Should idiot BRASH go hobbling up to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DANNY DEEVER by RUDYARD KIPLING TWO POEMS TO HANS THOMA ON HIS SIXIETH BIRTHDAY: 2. THE KNIGHT by RAINER MARIA RILKE GARDEN DAYS: 6. AUTUMN FIRES by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SPANISH WINGS: SENOR by H. BABCOCK FLOWER DAY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE CAPTAIN TOM AND CAPTAIN HUGH by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE MOURNING MUSE OF THESTYLIS by LODOWICK BRYSKETT THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: GOING BACK AGAIN by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |