Shall flourish o’er my couch of rest;
Gladly would I resign this trust,
And dust consign to native dust.
Why should I not? my former friends
Have fallen round me, one by one,
As fall the leaves when autumn sends
His breezes through the forests dun.
The grave has garnered all my love,
Why, why remain its walls above?—
Here do I stand alone—alone—