Mystery, mystery is here That brings a joy with a fear. Oh, that Death should greater be Than Time and Space and all we see, That Change should deeper be than thought And Time, like a portentous tomb, Should feel corruption in its womb Yet itself crumble like its rot! For e'en the sepulchre's cold stones Shall have a death like the dead bones They shut in. (What coffer can lock Corruption out? or rottenness What wit with cell and bolt can mock?) Ay, even marble shall like bodies die A death, shall have an end. The passer-by Shall tread the dust of the stone That on the grave did lie, In dust now like each bone. For to Corruption all must go, The difference in this alone: That some things rot quick and some slow. Ay, the hard stone will wear away Making the day when it was rock Unreal as a distant day. Only a Shadow none do know, By the lock'd door of Time and Space, With obscure and peculiar grace Keeps watch never to go.
