Sharing Robert Browning’s poem, ‘After’ -

Take the cloak from his face, and at first
Let the corpse do its worst!
 
 How he lies in his rights of a man!
 Death has done all death can.
 And, absorbed in the new life he leads,
 He recks not, he heeds
 Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike
 On his senses alike,
 And are lost in the solemn and strange
 Surprise of the change.
 Ha, what avails death to erase
 His offence, my disgrace?
 I would we were boys as of old
 In the field, by the fold:
 His outrage, God's patience, man's scorn
 Were so easily borne!
 
 I stand here now, he lies in his place:
 Cover the face!