A cross of ore as an anchor weight And a golden coin to pass through the gate A poem into marble driven Ashes to the ocean given Forged in ice, thus youthful still Maggots feasting at their will May a skeleton from the gallows pend Or life in the fire flare to its end The soul departs on desert plains The gorge devours the last remains A corpse hung high upon the cross Wounds cut deep to relieve the loss A body in rich ointments laid All falls short of a tombstone in the shade