"Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great—
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat—
To thee the reed is as the oak;