I drew aside the Future's veil
And saw upon his bier
The poet Whitman. Loud the wail
And damp the falling tear.
'He's dead-he is no more!' one cried,
With sobs of sorrow crammed;
'No more? He's this much more,' replied
Another: 'he is damned!'
I drew aside the Future's veil
And saw upon his bier
The poet Whitman. Loud the wail
And damp the falling tear.
'He's dead-he is no more!' one cried,
With sobs of sorrow crammed;
'No more? He's this much more,' replied
Another: 'he is damned!'