While the green creeps over the white of the snow,
While the wild woods ring with the song of the bird,
And the fields are a-bloom with daisies.
See! even the clod
Thrills, with life’s glad passion shaken!
The vagabond weeds, with their vagrant train,
Laugh in the sun, and weep in the rain,
The blue sky smiles like the eye of God,
Only my dead do not waken.
Dead! There is the word