A tomb, a prison, a plan.
A slight is made against us all
And where well doing could
Brick by brick is built the wall
To keep us in for good.
How is it we may keep man safe?
There is no way to do it;
Then how to quiet the wailing waif?
Poe was one who knew it;
Give free wine and time to dine
And winsome-seeming discourse
For the live a table's fine
But this tomb is for a corpse!