They have been here and had this light br Who in their graves are lying, br And e'en the youngest life to-night br Is gradually dying. br Our birth's a kind of death we have br When we upon time waken, br A step still nearer to the grave br With every breath is taken. br We are doomed being born, as 'twere br Decay within us breeding, br Or e'en as time did groan and bear br But death's immortal seeding; br For we are made of stuff that goes br So easy to decaying, br 'Tis at the best the spirit's clothes br In which it goes a-Maying.