Dirge

Boys that held him dear
Do your weeping now
All you loved of him lies here
Do your weeping now
Brought to earth the arrogant brow
And the withering tongue
Do your weeping now
Sing whatever songs are sung
Wind whatever wreath
For a playmate perished young
For a spirit whose spent in death
Boys that held him dear
Do your weeping now
All you loved of him lies here
Do your weeping now