No, I'm not afraid of death, (Not very much afraid, that is) Either for others or myself; Can watch them coming from the line On the wheeled silent stretchers And not shrink, But munch my sandwich stoically And make a joke, when "it" has passed. But-the way they wobble!- God! that makes one sick. Dead men should be so still, austere, And beautiful, Not wobbling carrion roped upon a cart … Well, thank God for rum. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STREET-CRIES: 2. THE SHIP OF EARTH by SIDNEY LANIER DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA IT COULDN'T BE DONE by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST THE STIRRUP-CUP by SIDNEY LANIER TO CHARLOTTE PULTENEY [IN HER MOTHER'S ARMS] by AMBROSE PHILIPS ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 98 by PHILIP SIDNEY |