To Totenzeitgeist, With Love

Oh little one,
Thou foolish thing
So filled with grandeur be.

You cannot see,
This love from me
That all your pomp doth bring.

Your effort’s large,
I’ll give you that
For all the good it does.

The glory’s great,
Or so it seems
Until you’re dead and gone.

For death becomes,
And glory’s lost
At this the end of times.

How Hades laughs,
At his cruel jest
Whilst in the Styx;
You come to rest.