He Thinks of Death
Before the door of each and all a slumber-place is ready set:
men wane and dwindle, and the graves in number grow from day to day;
And ever more and more out-worn the traces fade of hearth and
home, and ever yonder for some dead is newly built a house of clay.
Yea, neighbors are they of the living: near and close their fel-
lowship; but if thy soul would seek their converse, thou must seek it far away.
men wane and dwindle, and the graves in number grow from day to day;
And ever more and more out-worn the traces fade of hearth and
home, and ever yonder for some dead is newly built a house of clay.
Yea, neighbors are they of the living: near and close their fel-
lowship; but if thy soul would seek their converse, thou must seek it far away.
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