I <br /> <br />Upon your hearse this flower I lay <br />Brief be your sleep! You shall be known <br />When lesser men have had their day: <br />Fame blossoms where true seed is sown, <br />Or soon or late, let Time wound what it may. <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />Unvext by any dream of fame, <br />You smiled, and bade the world pass by: <br />But I--I turned, and saw a name <br />Shaping itself against the sky-- <br />White star that rose amid the battle's flame! <br /> <br />III <br /> <br />Brief be your sleep, for I would see <br />Your laurels--ah, how trivial now <br />To him must earthly laurel be <br />Who wears the amaranth on his brow! <br />How vain the voices of mortality!<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/threnody-3/
