(To the Peruvian Mummies in the Peabody Museum at Cambridge.)
BOWED be three time-gnawed heads in thoughts profound
On crackling breast, on fleshless hands, on knees,
Sunk in the depths of endless reveries
Whilst foolish sun and fretful earth spin round.
By night they counsel, argue, plan, expound
And hold high court as once by tropic seas;
By day they rightly take their royal ease
As fitteth those whom Death no more can hound.
Sage King, and ye two Councillors of State,
We look on you with ignorant, living eyes.
Ye fear no death who be already dead—
Time pricks you not, nor haste. Ye sit and wait,
Each thoughtful, passionless and very wise,
With shrivelled bones and parchment-covered head...