THE DESECRATERS

By Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Witness all: that unrepenting,

Feathers flying, music high,

I go down to death unshaken

By your mean philosophy.

For your wages, take my body,

That at least to you I leave;

Set the sulky plumes upon it,

Bid the grinning mummers grieve.

Stand in silence: steep your raiment

In the night that hath no star;

Don the mortal dress of devils,

Blacker than their spirits are.

Since ye may not, of your mercy,

Ere I lie on such a hearse,

Hurl me to the living jackals

God hath built for sepulchres.