wert as I, as I am thou shalt be,
Pale symbol of the nothingness of life
Still and unflinching 'neath the searching knife,
That seeketh knowledge of thy symmetry.
Thou wert as I, and what is fled from thee
That thus thou art? Must all my clam'rous strife
Lead to thy semblance? Oh, how death is rife;
And I who seek what life is can but see
What death is; for if I who still have breath
Find not its spark within, how then shall I
Find it in thee who art the thrall of death?
And though I know thy tissues how they lie
Each upon each, the soul that quickeneth
Is hidden from my gaze eternally.