Classic Poem

I march in a cortege perpetual —
I, part of the cortege; — my footsteps fall
Behind the Sacrament that leads ahead
Into the temple. Are our minds at one — ?
Or individual — ; Does the same sun
Light all? — O Lord! — what trifling prayers we said! —

I march in a cortege perpetual, —
Not knowing if my death shall end it all.
Or if through other cycles I am led;
Where with an exile's footsteps I shall go
Through dusty roads forever, — or shall know,
O humble pilgrim, at the end, instead,
Thy grateful shoulder bending low
Where my last rest is spread.