Dead, thou never art, Though no breath stirs thine armored form, Thy bronzed lips not a word do speak. All these years, two thousand and more, What hast thou seen — thine eyes closed? What hast thou been feeling, senseless body! All thy luminous dreams hid from mankind's ken? Yet would I give thee all I am, If, for a moment, these eyes could see What thou seest eternally. |