His death which happened in his berth, At forty-odd befell: They went and told the sexton, and The sexton tolled the bell.

I remember, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon Nor brought too long …

I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis li…

And there is ev'n a happiness That makes the heart afraid!

Caballito negro. ?Donde llevas tu jinete muerto?

They darted down and rose up like a wave Or buzzed impetuously as before; One would have thought the corpse was held a slave To living by the life it bore!

And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds, His belly close to ground. I see the blade, Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade