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SONGS, LEGENDS, AND BALLADS.
See on the friendly stones how peacefully rests the head—
Thinking, if dumb beasts think, how good it is to be dead;
After the weary journey, how restful it is to lie
"With the broken shafts and the cruel load—waiting only to die.
Watchers, he died in harness—died in the shafts and straps—
Fell, and the burden killed him: one of the day's mishaps—,
One of the passing wonders marking the city road—
A toiler dying in harness, heedless of call or goad.
Passers, crowding the pathway, staying your steps awhile,
What is the symbol? Only death—why should we cease to smile
