Very death amid dead life’s mimicry;
I raised it, and Thought fled afar from me
To the Afric land by the Zingian Sea.
’Twas a face, a shell, that had nought of brain,
And th’ imbedding chalk showed a yellow thread
Which struck my glance with a sudden pain,
For this seemed ’live when the rest was dead;
And poor bygone raillery came to mind
Of the tragic masque and no head behind.
But behind there lay in the humblest shrine