He kneels, his knee drawn down to kindred dust,
For all is earth within him, from those eyes
Wherein a noble nature fallen lies,
To the lean hands that clutch, as clutch they must,
The muck-rake of this world, for unto him
His heaven is on a level with his soul,
That, blind, can see no higher, purer goal
Than in the gold that glitters but to dim.
Jewels that tarnish, honours that take wing
A moment after, luring shapes that sink
To leave the grinning skull whose sockets blink
Derision sharper than the viper's sting,
And Vanity, by hollow whispers nursed,
Blowing her bubbles, which ere caught have burst.