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Hail to the Dead.

Hail to the dead whose cares are over,
Hail to the dead whose days are done.
Quiet they lie beneath the clover,
Maiden and young man, loved and lover,
While the old world spins around the sun.
Hail to the dead!




  ― 150 ―
Hail to the dead; their land is freehold;
For their low houses they pay no rent.
The fattest of soils the dead in fee hold;
Fretting and toil is ours, but, behold,
Who but the dead are well content?
Hail to the dead!

Hail to the dead, their thirst they're slaking
With the strong red juice from the vine at its root.
Down in the land where there is no waking,
No forgetting, and no forsaking,
While we toil hard for the sapless fruit.
Hail to the dead!

Husbands and wives in peace together,
There they lie with never a word;
Never a hitch in the marriage tether,
Never a storm through the stilly weather,
Above, long grass by the warm winds stirred.
Hail to the dead!

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