152 . The Skull

O BOWL that held the hot imprisoned fire,

Cup where the sacred essence used to burn—

That fluent essence that shall ne’er return—

Old home of Aspiration and Desire:

What art thou now to honour and admire?

A thing inconsequential one might spurn,

Thou art not e’en the scattered ashes’ urn;—

Husk of the spirit that shall not expire.

Thou cage and shell of ancient busy Thought,

Nurse-house of Soul, the domicile of him

Long fled thy osseous walls that Nature wrought

To please proud Time’s caprice and passing whim;

’Twixt two eternities a moment caught,

He rose from thee to join the seraphim.