... Thou silly thing, off to thy daisies go! Mine was not news for the child to know, And Death--no ears hath, He hath supped where creep Eyeless worms in hush of sleep; Yet, when he smiles, the hand he draws Athwart his grinning jaws-- Faintly the thin bones rattle, and--there, there! Hearken how my bells in the air Drive away care!...