Mark! how it laughs and scorns at all you are!

And yet was what you are; from ear to ear
It laughs not—there is now no fleshy bar

So called; the Antic long hath ceased to hear,

But still he smiles; and whether near or far,

He strips from man that mantle (far more dear

Than even the tailor's), his incarnate skin,[IV]White, black, or copper—the dead bones will grin.