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Its final home in earth. What Traveller—who—
(How far soe'er a Stranger) does not own
The bond of brotherhood, when he sees them go,
A mute Procession, on the houseless road,
Or passing by some single tenement
Or clustered dwellings, where again they raise
The monitory voice? But most of all
It touches, it confirms, and elevates,
Then, when the Body, soon to be consigned
Ashes to ashes, dust bequeathed to dust,
Is raised from the church-aisle, and forward borne
Upon the shoulders of the next in love,
The nearest in affection or in blood;
Yea by the very Mourners who had knelt
Beside the Coffin, resting on its lid
In silent grief their unuplifted heads,
And heard meanwhile the Psalmist's mournful plaint,
And that most awful scripture which declares
We shall not sleep, but we shall all be changed!
—Have I not seen?—Ye likewise may have seen
Son, Husband, Brothers—Brothers side by side,
And Son and Father also side by side,
Rise from that posture:—and in concert move,
