HERE lies a common man. His horny hands, Crossed meekly as a maid's upon his breast, Show marks of toil, and by his general dress You judge him to have been an artizan. Doubtless, could all his life be written out, The story would not thrill nor start a tear; He worked, laughed, loved, and suffered in his time, And now rests peacefully, with upturned face Whose look belies all struggle in the past. A homely tale: yet, trust me, I have seen The greatest of the earth go stately by, While shouting multitudes beset the way, With less of awe. The gap between a king And me, a nameless gazer in the crowd, Seemed not so wide as that which stretches now Betwixt us two, this dead one and myself. Untitled, dumb, and deedless, yet he is Transfigured by a touch from out the skies Until he wears, with all-unconscious grace, The strange and sudden Dignity of Death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOMES OF ENGLAND by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE LAKE (VERSION 2) by EDGAR ALLAN POE ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA by HENRY WOTTON THE CALL by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 5 by THOMAS CAMPION BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF 'TO PARLIAMENT THE QUEEN IS GONE' by PATRICK CAREY |