![\"\"](\"http:\/\/upload.wikimedia.org\/wikipedia\/commons\/3\/3a\/William-Adolphe_Bouguereau_%281825-1905%29_-_The_Day_of_the_Dead_%281859%29.jpg\")
\nOne night I fled, beyond the dread,
\nAnd looked for place to lay my head,
\nSo thought upon the sainted dead,
\nYea, how it was if they were gone.
\nOh, wished it well, for such a spell,
\nAs would surely one truth tell,
\nHow when at tripping heart’s last knell,
\nSun chimed the ice at dawn.
\nIf by hap some ghost was true,
\nOr Aiken Drum feared hallowed dew,
\nYes, if the haunted folk grew few,
\nStill chanting sunrise would last long.
\nAre dead men holy, even they,
\nWho perished in a loathsome way?
\nThis life again to worse than fey,
\nIf saints could sing their song.
\nThey rise again, no doubt gone by,
\nThe fated ones with only sighs,
\nWho perished e’er they ever die,
\nBut rise again, in a dun saint’s eye,
\nFor the bells of old ring long.
\nStumble, curse, or doubt this rune,
\nUntil your angel finds your tune,
\nAnd plucks the strings un-slung at doom,
\nWhen Good makes one with Strong.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"