Weep on! he has a happier fate
Than many such as he,
To lie there in the gentle snow,
And die so quietly:
To feel your warm tears fall on him,
To feel your tender hands.
You know he feels as well as you,
You know he understands.
He might have now been dying
Shot by a cruel gun;
With panting heart and glazing eye
For life he might have run.
E’en now he might be hanging
Above your larder shelves,
And you, you might, indeed you might,
Have eaten him yourselves.
Weep on! you will not better it;
Or change the world’s old way,
For men will hunt and course and shoot,
Though you should weep for aye.
Weep on! be not ashamed of it,
You’ll own in after years,
That you yourselves, if not the world,
Are better for your tears.