Take the cloak from his face, and at first
Let the corpse do its worst!
How he lies in his rights of a man!
Death has done all death can.
And, absorbed in the new life he leads,
He recks not, he heeds
Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
On his senses alike,
And are lost in the solemn and strange
Surprise of the change.
Ha, what avails death to erase
His offence, my disgrace?
I would we were boys as of old
In the field, by the fold:
His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn
Were so easily borne!
I stand here now, he lies in his place:
Cover the face!
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Comments about this poem (After by Robert Browning )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(01 January 1950)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963)
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