XXXI
Precedence
Wait till the majesty of DeathInvests so mean a brow!Almost a powdered footmanMight dare to touch it now!
Wait till in everlasting robesThis democrat is dressed,Then prate about “preferment”And “station” and the rest!
Around this quiet courtierObsequious angels wait!Full royal is his retinue,Full purple is his state!
A lord might dare to lift the hatTo such a modest clay,Since that my Lord, “the Lord of lords”Receives unblushingly!