To the mournful sound of the curfew's note,
On to the churchyard they go;
Bearing the form of a dear lost friend
"With measured step and slow."
A moment they pause the cords to adjust,
Then lower him into the ground,
While paying their last respects to the dead
The mourners stand around.
Reverently they cover him up
(Of mortal this is the end);
Then sadly leave him in the dust
"Where the tall trees sway and bend."
In the winds that weep o'er the lowly graves
Where the ashes of forebears lie,
And the requiem sounds from the crystal stream
That is swiftly flowing by.