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Poem	My virtues in Carara stone Cut carefully you all my scan; Beneath I lie, a fetid bone, The marble worth more than the man. If on my pure tomb they should grave My vices,--how the folks would grin! And say with sympathetic wave: "Like us he was a man of sin." And somehow he consoled thereby, Knowing they may, though Hades bent, When finally they come to die, Enjoy a snow-white monument. And maybe it is just as well When we from life and lust are riven, That though our souls should sink to hell Our tombs point: Destination Heaven!
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