On the Dignity of Man

Oh, bear me down to be dust on a hill.

Place but a flower to paint my life's still.

Let no man weep or stand o'er to pity,

For silent death tones must carry all forth.

This is not I become ashes and bone.

Listen to the sparrow's mate and its song.

'Tis to be sung for the living to hear.

All songs of glory man's dignity bear.

When ashes of mind are filtered to earth,

The earth will tremor to note the rebirth.

Each man to his hill, each man to his cross,

Each man the beggar and king all at once.

     Pity not the man for dying he must;

     Pity the man for dying without trust.