Spoils of the Dead

 
 
Two fairies it was 
  On a still summer day 
Came forth in the woods 
  With the flowers to play. 
 
The flowers they plucked         
  They cast on the ground 
For others, and those 
  For still others they found. 
 
Flower-guided it was 
  That they came as they ran         10
On something that lay 
  In the shape of a man. 
 
The snow must have made 
  The feathery bed 
When this one fell         
  On the sleep of the dead. 
 
But the snow was gone 
  A long time ago, 
And the body he wore 
  Nigh gone with the snow.         
 
The fairies drew near 
  And keenly espied 
A ring on his hand 
  And a chain at his side. 
 
They knelt in the leaves         
  And eerily played 
With the glittering things, 
  And were not afraid. 
 
And when they went home 
  To hide in their burrow,         
They took them along 
  To play with to-morrow. 
 
When you came on death, 
  Did you not come flower-guided 
Like the elves in the wood?         
  I remember that I did. 
 
But I recognised death 
  With sorrow and dread, 
And I hated and hate 
  The spoils of the dead.