Yet—pause here,
Bending low o’er the narrow bier!
Pause ye awhile and let your thought
Compass the work that he hath wrought;
Look on his brow so scarred and worn;
Think of the weight his hands have borne;
Think of the fetters he hath broken,
Of the mighty words _his_ lips have spoken
Who lies here
Dead and cold on a narrow bier!