The whole of him except his heart
Was lying straight and still,
And that was pulling his ribs apart
To climb to the top of a hill.

" Get up; get up; the sheets are clean;
The pillow is smooth and even;
Climb the hill, for we have not seen
One half our fill of heaven;

" One half our fill of heaven on earth
And the sun on the red deer's haunches;
The bridge between our death and birth
Is only a matter of inches.

" Throw off your laundered sheets and climb;
The grave is not forgiving,
And he who shortens his life in time
May lengthen it in living.

" If a little vein within me broke,
The blood would frighten your pillow;
But there's brave red earth beneath the oak
And water beneath the willow,

" That are not scared of any man's blood
When once he's left off breathing;
The rabbits frolicking in the wood
Will sniff and think it nothing.

" At the little noise our death will make
No red deer need stand still;
Get up; get up, for heaven's sake,
And climb to the top of the hill. "