Not thus, the Scythian of old time welcomed Death with songs;
Not thus, the shrewd Egyptian decorated Death with braveries;
Not thus, on his funeral tower sleepeth the sun-worshipping Parsee;
Not thus, the Moslem saint lieth in his arabesque mausoleum;
Not thus, the wild red Indian, hunter of the far Missouri,
In flowering trees hath nested up his forest-loving ancestry;
Not thus, the Switzer mountaineer scattereth ribboned garlands
About the rustic cross that halloweth the bed of his beloved;
Not thus, the village maiden wisheth she may die in spring,
With store of violets and cowslips to be sprinkled on her snow-white shroud;