It feels a shame to be Alive —
When Men so brave — are dead —
One envies the Distinguished Dust —
Permitted — such a Head —
The Stone — that tells defending Whom
This Spartan put away
What little of Him we — possessed
In Pawn for Liberty —
The price is great —...
The World — feels Dusty
When We stop to Die —
We want the Dew — then —
Honors — taste dry —
Flags — vex a Dying face —
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend's Hand —
Cools — like the Rain —
Mine be the Ministry
When thy Thirst comes —
And Hybla...
Time feels so vast that were it not
For an Eternity —
I fear me this Circumference
Engross my Finity —
To His exclusion, who prepare
By Processes of Size
For the Stupendous Vision
Of his diameters —