Robert Browning

Take the cloak from his face, and at first
  Let the corpse do its worst!

How he lies in his rights of a man!
  Death has done all death can.
And, absorbed in the new life he leads,
  He recks not, he heeds
Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
  On his senses alike,
And are lost in the solemn and strange
  Surprise of the change.
Ha, what avails death to erase
  His offence, my disgrace?
I would we were boys as of old
  In the field, by the fold:
His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn
  Were so easily borne!

I stand here now, he lies in his place:
  Cover the face!

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