The Skull of Shakespeare
by George Sterling (1869-1926)


Here an immortal river had its rise,
Though dusty now the fountain whence it ran
So swift and beautiful with good to man.
Here the foundation of an empire lies--
The ruins of a realm seen not with eyes,
That now the vision of a gnat could scan.
Here wars were fought within a little span,
Whose echoes yet resound on human skies.

Life, on her rainbow road from dust to dust,
Split here her wildest iris, still thine own,
Master, and with thy soul and ashes one.
Thy wings are distant from our years of lust,
Yet he who liveth not by bread alone
Shall see thee as that angel in the sun.

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