Though high beat the hearts we cherish,
The dead we most highly prize:
Hurrah for the first to perish!
Three cheers for the next who dies!

The earth we now leave behind us,
The heavens now beckon before,
Though dust of the dead may blind us,
We march for the shining shore;
No more can our Hope deceive us,
Our heart to it now replies,
Hurrah for the first to leave us!
Three cheers for the next who dies!




FARE THEE WELL, O LOVE OF WOMAN!


Fare thee well, O Love of Woman!
Lip of Beauty, fare thee well!
Thy soft heart, divinely human,
Holds me by a magic spell.
All that grieves me now to perish
Is the loss of one bright eye,
And I still the vision cherish
While I lay me down to die.

At my headstone, kindly kneeling,