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KING DEATH.
King Death is an archer fierce and strong,
He points with unerring aim;
And what though his victim avoid him long?
He is sure to track out his game.

He laughs at the monarch's jewelled brow,
He fears not his ghastly frown;
And while the monk is recording his vow,
In the grave Death lays him down.

He drags the prisoner from his cell,
The peasant from his cot;
And he must be wise of a home to tell
That King Death entereth not.

He takes the babe from its mother's breast,
The boy from his father's knee,
And bears them away to their dreamless rest,
Beneath the cypress tree.