Rondel by George MacDonald — Read

I follow, tottering, in the funeral train / That bears my body to the welcoming grave. / As those I mourn not, that entomb the brave, / But smile as those that lay aside the vain;

To me it is a thing of poor disdain, / A clod I would not give a sigh to save! / I follow, careless, in the funeral train, / My outworn raiment to the cleansing grave.

I follow to the grave with growing pain -- / Then sudden cry: Let Earth take what she gave! / And turn in gladness from the yawning cave -- / Glad even for those whose tears yet flow amain: / They also follow, in their funeral train, / Outworn necessities to the welcoming grave!