When the mortal shall quietly go;
Or like the autumn leaves turn brown;
Shall a glorious head not wear a crown
As the walking shadow melts like snow?
If dark sowers shall reap what they sow;
Shall those who wear blood-stripped gowns
Not find they don’t have a cause to frown
As invisible mouths shall trumpet blow?
Are you denied the Earth’s firewood
Though you’ve hewed hills in search of it
Wearing a misery look like Golgotha pains?
Cry not. The Earth and the firewood
Shall soon go down the drain. Their kits,
Their gold medals: shall they not rot in vain?
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The poem paints a picture of the rapture, the crown of those who are washed in the blood of the lamb. They will wear their crowns. The poet consoles the poor whose actions are just. The futility of wealth/money "firewood" and the accolades reserved for the rich is ridiculed. Thus, even the Earth and the wealth therein shall perish at the blow of the trumpet- "rot in vain."