The 

 Human 

 Harvest 



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Ke<velry 



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Dying 



Older and more intense is " The Revelry of 

 the Dying " of Bartholomew Dowling, — a 

 bit of burning verse which was sung at the 

 banquet of death in which Dowling himself 

 was one ofthe first that died; — 



We have met 'neath the sounding rafter, 



But the walls around are bare: 

 They ring to our peals of laughter, 



But we know that the dead are there. 

 So stand to your glasses steady, 



We drink to our comrades* eyes: 

 Here's a cup to the dead already. 



And huzza for the next that dies! 

 There's a mist in the glass congealing, — 



'Tis the hurricane's fiery breath; 

 And 'tis thus that the warmth of feeling 



Turns cold in the grasp of death. 



[9°] 



Cut off from the land that bore us, 



Betrayed by the land we find, 

 When the brightest are gone before us. 



And the dullest are left behind. 

 So stand to your glasses steady, 



Tho' a moment the color flies; 

 Here's a cup to the dead already. 



And huzza for the next that dies! 



