A Land Dirge
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm And, when gay tombs are robb'd, sustain no harm; But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, For with his nails he'll dig them up again.
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