 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
JOB III, 19
“The small and great are there, and the servant is free from his master.”
Drear place of dreamless solitude! to thee
Earth's generations pass. The small, the great,
The mighty monarch, and the meanest slave
Unceremonious mix their equal dust
Within thy gloom-wrapt mansions. One has known
The world's high honors—servitude and pain
Have been the other's lot; but in the grave,—
Stern leveller of mortal dignity,—
They now are equals. Ye that seek for fame,
To shed its halo round your last abode!
The grave hath hearts, which oft as yours hath swelled
At fulsome adulation—at the applause
Of wondering thousands; these forgotten lie,
Oblivioned in the labyrinth of years,
Which envious time hath on their memory heaped.
So shall it be with you—awhile may fame,
Faint and in whispers round your place of rest
Tell of departed greatness—time at length
Shall silence that small voice—at length shall bring
The monument, that ostentatiously
Rears its tall head, emblazoned with the name
And deeds of him, who 'neath its base returneth
Unto original dust, as low as is
That wasted form, and shall amalgamate
Its crumbling ruins with the dust it honoured.
Haverhill Gazette, June 2, 1827
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |