Observations placeholder
Shirley, J - Death the leveller
Identifier
007088
Type of Spiritual Experience
Background
Vimy Grodzinski
A description of the experience
J Shirley – Death the Leveller
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade
Some men with swords may reap the field
And plant fresh laurels where they kill
But their strong nerves at last must yield
They tame but one another still
Early or late
They stoop to fate
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death
The garlands wither on your brow
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon Death's purple altar now
See where the victor-victim bleeds;
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust