The Grave-Yard

James Russell Lowell (1819–1891)

From “A Fable for Critics”

LET us glance for a moment, ’t is well worth the pains,

And note what an average grave-yard contains;

There lie levellers levelled, duns done up themselves,

There are booksellers finally laid on their shelves,

Horizontally there lie upright politicians,

Dose-a-dose with their patients sleep faultless physicians,

There are slave-drivers quietly whipt underground,

There bookbinders, done up in boards, are fast bound,

There card-players wait till the last trump be played,

There all the choice spirits get finally laid,

There the babe that ’s unborn is supplied with a berth,

There men without legs get their six feet of earth,

There lawyers repose, each wrapt up in his case,

There seekers of office are sure of a place,

There defendant and plaintiff get equally cast,

There shoemakers quietly stick to the last,

There brokers at length become silent as stocks,

There stage-drivers sleep without quitting their box,

And so forth and so forth and so forth and so on,

With this kind of stuff one might endlessly go on;

To come to the point, I may safely assert you

Will find in each yard every cardinal virtue;

(And at this just conclusion will surely arrive,

That the goodness of earth is more dead than alive).