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Death and Dives
27
DEATH
'Obey, obey!
I have no time to pause, to stay;
We must be far away
Ere day.'
DIVES
'I scarcely yet begin to live
After the years of gathering toil,
Needing no longer now to strive,
My cellars filled with wine and oil.
My honey-bees do congregate
Near barns which groan beneath the weight
Of corn, and shrivelled fruit, in rows,
Hangs rafter-strung; whilst daily grows
More loud the lowing in my stalls.
Atlanta, too, this day has foaled.
These jars of silver, bowls of gold,
These purple robes of sea-born dye,
Yon gaudy birds which swing and cry
In unknown, brazen tongues.Yon slaves,
Spice-scented, from whose viols falls
Soft music on my painted walls,
