The Skull

O bowl that held the hot imprisoned fire,
Cup where the sacred essence used to burn —
That fluent essence that shall ne'er return —
Old home of Aspiration and Desire :
What art thou now to honour and admire ?
A thing inconsequential one might spurn,
Thou art not e'en the scattered ashes' urn ; —
Husk of the spirit that shall not expire.

Thou cage and shell of ancient busy Thought,
Nurse-house of Soul, the domicile of him
Long fled thy osseous walls that Nature wrought
To please proud Time's caprice and passing whim ;
'Twixt two eternities a moment caught,
He rose from thee to join the seraphim.