I see so clearly now my similar years 
Repeat each other, clad in rusty black, 
Like one hack following another hack 
In meaningless procession, dry of tears, 
Driven empty, lest the noses sharp as shears 
Of gutter-urchins at the hearse's back 
Should sniff a man died friendless and attack 
With silly scorn his deaf triumphant ears. 

I see so clearly how my days must run, 
One year behind another year until 
At length these bones that leap into the sun 
Are lowered into the gravel, and lie still. 
I would at times the funeral were done, 
And I abandoned on the ultimate hill.