He strips from man that mantle (far more dear
Than even the tailor's), his incarnate skin,[IV]
White, black, or copper—the dead bones will grin.
XIII.
And thus Death laughs,—it is sad merriment,
But still it is so; and with such example
Why should not Life be equally content
With his Superior, in a smile to trample
Upon the nothings which are daily spent
Like bubbles on an Ocean much less ample