Why should we lodge in marble or in bronze

Spirits more vast than earth, or sea, or sky?

Wiser the silent worshipper that cons

Their words for wisdom that will never die.

Unto the favourite of the passing hour

Erect the statue and parade the bust;

Whereon decisive Time will slowly shower

Oblivion’s refuse and disdainful dust.

The Monarchs of the Mind, self-sceptred Kings,

Need no memento to transmit their name:

Throned on their thoughts and high imaginings,

They are the Lords, not sycophants of Fame.

Raise pedestals to perishable stuff:

Gods for themselves are monuments enough.