University of Virginia Library


92

(3)

“Thy gold hair likes me well
And thy blue eyes,” he saith,
Who chooses where he will
And none may hinder—Death.
At head and feet for candles
Roses burning red,
The valley lilies tolling
For the early dead:
Ding-dong ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong bell
Ding dong bell