Tract

　　 by William Carlos Williams

　　 I will teach you my townspeople

　　 how to perform a funeral

　　 for you have it over a troop

　　 of artists

　　 unless one should scour the world

　　 you have the ground sense necessary.

　　 See！ the hearse leads.

　　 I begin with a design for a hearse.

　　 For Christ's sake not black

　　 nor white either--and not polished！

　　 Let it be weathered--like a farm wagon

　　 with gilt wheels （this could be

　　 applied fresh at small expense）

　　 or no wheels at all：

　　 a rough dray to drag over the ground.

　　 Knock the glass out！

　　 My God--glass， my townspeople！

　　 For what purpose？ Is it for the dead

　　 to look out or for us to see

　　 how well he is housed or to see

　　 the flowers or the lack of them

　　 or what？

　　 To keep the rain and snow from him？

　　 He will have a heavier rain soon：

　　 pebbles and dirt and what not.

　　 Let there be no glass

　　 and no upholstery， phew！

　　 and no little brass rollers

　　 and small easy wheels on the bottom

　　 my townspeople what are you thinking of？

　　 A rough plain hearse then

　　 with gilt wheels and no top at all.

　　 On this the coffin lies

　　 by its own weight.

　　 No wreaths please

　　 especially no hot house flowers.

　　 Some common memento is better，

　　 something he prized and is known by：

　　 his old clothes--a few books perhaps

　　 God knows what！ You realize

　　 how we are about these things

　　 my townspeople

　　 something will be found--anything

　　 even flowers if he had come to that.

　　 So much for the hearse.

　　 For heaven's sake though see to the driver！

　　 Take off the silk hat！ In fact

　　 that's no place at all for him

　　 up there unceremoniously

　　 dragging our friend out to his own dignity！

　　 Bring him down--bring him down！

　　 Low and inconspicuous！ I'd not have him ride

　　 on the wagon at all--damn him

　　 the undertaker's understrapper！

　　 Let him hold the reins

　　 and walk at the side

　　 and inconspicuously too！

　　 Then briefly as to yourselves：

　　 Walk behind--as they do in France，

　　 seventh class， or if you ride

　　 Hell take curtains！ Go with some show

　　 of inconvenience； sit openly

　　 to the weather as to grief.

　　 Or do you think you can shut grief in？

　　 What--from us？ We who have perhaps

　　 nothing to lose？ Share with us

　　 share with us--it will be money

　　 in your pockets.

　　 Go now

　　 I think you are ready.

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