I shall lie so one day,
With lips of Silence set;
Eyes that no tear can wet
Again: a thing of Clay.
I shall lie so, and Earth
Will seize again her dust —
Though she must gnaw and rust
The coffin's iron girth.
I shall lie so — and they
Who still the Day bestride,
Will stand so by my side
And with sad yearning say:
“What is he now, this man,
Shut in a pallor there,
His spirit that could dare,
What — what now is its span?
“A withered atom's space
Within a withered brain?
Or can it from the Wain
To far Orion race?”
And, like all that have died,
I shall but answer — naught.
Yet Time this truth has taught:
The Question — will abide.