 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
271
ALEXANDER
There was a man whom all men called The Great.Low lying on his death-bed, we are told,
He bade his courtiers (when he should be cold,
Breathless, and silent in his last estate,
And they who were to bury him should wait
Outside the palace) that no cerecloth's fold
Or winding-sheet should round his hands be rolled:
Those helpless hands that once had ruled the state!
Thus spake he: “On the black pall let them lie,
Empty and lorn, that all the world may see
How of his riches there was nothing left
To Alexander when he came to die.”
Lord of two worlds, as treasureless was he
As any beggar of his crust bereft!
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |