In which this morn those hallow’d ashes lay,
Must be to-night re-open’d to make room
For others who have died since yesterday.
No rest is there. Within that narrow space
Full—hideously full long years before,—
Still day by day must those now there give place;
Still day by day must room be found for more.
Yet e’en these bones from insult to protect,
Is not the end and object of our song,
No, ’tis that others may with us reflect