A Dirge
It falls to one, it falls to all!
He that we bear but goes before, —
Goes from his door beneath the pall,
And comes no more.
From roof and hearth-stone, one by one,
We bear the neighbors whom we love, —
The bearers are the borne full soon;
Ah! softly move.
And shrink not from the harmless dead,
For ye hasten to their company;
Loathe not, for in the same low bed
We all must lie.
He that we bear but goes before, —
Goes from his door beneath the pall,
And comes no more.
From roof and hearth-stone, one by one,
We bear the neighbors whom we love, —
The bearers are the borne full soon;
Ah! softly move.
And shrink not from the harmless dead,
For ye hasten to their company;
Loathe not, for in the same low bed
We all must lie.
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