For There No Yew Nor Cypress Spread

Who Hail Thee, Man! The Pilgrim Of The Day, Spouse Of The Worm, And Brother Of The Clay.

Never Wedding, Ever Wooing, Still A Lovelorn Heart Pursuing, Read You Not The Wrong You're Doing In My Cheek's Pale Hue? All My Life With Sorrow Strewing; Wed Or Cease To Woo.

On Linden, When The Sun Was Low, All Bloodless Lay The Untrodden Snow, And Dark As Winter Was The Flow Of Iser, Rolling Rapidly.

The Patriot's Blood Is The Seed Of Freedom's Tree.

What Millions Died That Caesar Might Be Great!