A cross of ore as an anchor weight
And a golden coin to pass through the gate
A poem into marble driven
Ashes to the ocean given
Forged in ice, thus youthful still
Maggots feasting at their will
May a skeleton from the gallows pend
Or life in the fire flare to its end
The soul departs on desert plains
The gorge devours the last remains
A corpse hung high upon the cross
Wounds cut deep to relieve the loss
A body in rich ointments laid
All falls short of a tombstone in the shade
