You just die, – you just pass away, br And it’ll be all right, OK… br Your wife will read the Psalms br In a soft voice and prey. br She’ll weep a little and lament, br She’ll wear mourning dresses and fret, br And whisper to the dearest br Daughters and sons: br “My kids, your father br Has turned to dust…” br You just die, – you just depart, br And it’ll be OK… it’ll be all right. br The violets and the snowdrops br Will wipe out the winter, br The tiny bird will weave br Passion with twitter, br And the breeze br Will sing night’s tale to the leaves… br The widow will look in the mirror, br And take a pencil in her hand… br No make-up is needed, you know, br For a rose drooping her head… br She may notice your gaze, – br The zeal heavy with years, br She may see the sham br Mirrored in your eyes… br Then she’ll smile… and shed tears… br You’ll pity her and think br You’d better stay with her, br You’d better look br After the cornfield of your desire… br You’d better work with all your heart, br And reap what you have sown… br And let your beautiful wife br Be a violet to you… or a rose… br br 17.01.