Look on the dead. Stately and pure he lies <br />Under the white sheet's marble folds. For him <br />The solemn bier, the scented chamber dim, <br />The sacred hush, the bowed heads of the wise, <br />The slow pomp, the majestical disguise <br />Of haughty death, the conjurer—even for him, <br />Poor trivial one, pale shadow on the rim,. <br />Whom life marked not, but death may not despise. <br />Now is he level with the great; no king <br />Enthroned and crowned more royal is, more sure <br />Of the world's reverence. Yesterday this thing <br />Was but a man, mortal and insecure; <br />Now chance and change their homage to him bring <br />And he is one with all things that endure.<br /><br />Harriet Monroe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/re-perennius/
