Dead men are wisest, for they know How far the roots of flowers go, How long a seed must rot to grow. They sleep and dream and have no weight, To curb their rest, of love or hate. Dead men alone bear frost and rain On throbless heart and heatless brain, And feel no stir of joy or pain. They sleep and dream and have no weight, To curb their rest, of love or hate. Strange, men should flee their company, Or think me strange who long to be Wrapped in their cool immunity. Their cool immunity. They sleep and dream and have no weight, To curb their rest, of love or hate.