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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

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 hid 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.

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Robert Frost

Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published i…

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