Did I dream
I saw a funeral
Procession leaving
St. Giles Church?
Sans caisson,
Black horses,
Boots and  backward spurs;
No black feathers,
No armbands,
No Oliver's crocodile tears;
No Orleans trumpets
To allay my eternal fears.
I caught them slide
The silver casket,
Bullet-like,
Into a chamber,
To shoot into the ground.
I never heard a sound.