A fine accoutrement, be sure,
A funeral pall of gold,
A lively crown the laurels make,
For those that death preserved

And death, his hand, or her's,
For death is equal parts,
Is softer than a velvet veil,
And harder than men's hearts

Oh friend, do not the silence break,
With comfort driven word,
I know where we are going
It needst not be heard

And though this world I leave,
Another comes to view!
Oh friend it is so lovely!
It would be glorious with you!!!!

And do not be afraid, my friend,
When death comes seeking you,
The hall of death is velvet soft,
The sweetest of all fruits!!!