Pomp

Angel and urn and broken obelisk

Are but a few of the ideas of the dead

Formed out of legend and the local stone

Set forth in ostentation and all weathers.

Some of the rich have stone doll's houses built,

Apartments where each has his private shelf

Distinct from ditches where the hundreds lie

Tumbled and bulldozed under in one run.

Since all ground's consecrated now, or none,

Our dearly distinguished suicides are here

As well, who took upon themselves to know

The day, the hour, and the means to make an end,

Who quit the world before they could be fired

And at a stroke became to us as gods,

Whose living hands lifted Osiris' veil

And set their sphinx among our pyramids.