Here Lies by Edna St. Vincent Millay — Read

Here lies, and none to mourn him but the sea, / That falls incessant on the empty shore, / Most various Man, cut down to spring no more;

Before his prime, even in his infancy

Cut down, and all the clamour that was he, / Silenced; and all the riveted pride he wore, / A rusted iron column whose tall core

The rains have tunnelled like an aspen tree. Man, doughty Man, what power has brought you low, / That heaven itself in arms could not persuade

To lay aside the lever and the spade

And be as dust among the dusts that blow?

Whence, whence the broadside? whose the heavy blade? . Strive not to speak, poor scattered mouth; I know.