Take the cloak from his face, and at first
 Let the corpse do its worst!
How he lies in his rights of a man!
 Death has done all death can.
And, absorbed in the new life he leads,
 He recks not, he heeds
Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
 On his senses alike,
And are lost in the solemn and strange
 Surprise of the change.
Ha, what avails death to erase
 His offence, my disgrace?
I would we were boys as of old
 In the field, by the fold:
His outrage, God’s patience, man’s scorn
 Were so easily borne!
I stand here now, he lies in his place:
 Cover the face!
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