And death's dark bones will then become
Like iv'ry pure and white!
His blood-dyed robe will moulder off,
And his garments be as light;
For man will slaughter man no more
For wrong begot by wrongs,
For our little Prince will say—"To me
Nor life nor death belongs."
So we will rattle our little bell,
And laugh, and dance, and sing as well—