XXXVIII

Far from these carrion kites that scream below;

      He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead;

      Thou canst not soar where he is sitting now—

      Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow

      Back to the burning fountain whence it came,

      A portion of the Eternal, which must glow

      Through time and change, unquenchably the same,

Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame.