Into the grave, into the grave with him.

Quick, quick, with dust and stones this dead man cover

Who living was a flickering soul so dim

He was never truly loved nor truly a lover.

Since he was half and half, now let him be

Something entire at last here in this might

Which teaches us its absolute honesty

Who stay between the light and the half-light.

He scarce had room for sorrow, even his own;

His vastest dreams were less than six feet tall;

Free of all joys, he crept in himself alone:

To the grave with this poor image of us all.

If now is Resurrection, then let stay

Only what’s ours when this is put away.