| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | On an Etruscan Tomb | | By William Gibson (1826–1887) |
| | | ON thy rough sides, O cinerary urn! | |
| Two thousand years and more these warriors fight; | |
| One lifts the shield and one the sword to smite; | |
| The end it is not given us to discern, | |
| Nor yet the purport of that strife to learn. | 5 |
| Scorn not my reading, terrible if trite. | |
| All life is such a battle, until the night | |
| Falls, and ephemeral heats to ashes burn. | |
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| Lo! on the lid, wrapt closely to the chin | |
| In the long sheet, arms limp upon the breast, | 10 |
| Head drooped and turned, a form of perfect rest; | |
| Strewn to the wind the dust that lay herein; | |
| Yet on this sepulchre the Etruscan faith | |
| Carved unmistakably a Sleep—not Death. | | | | |
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