{{block center| Now, and with no need of tears,
Here they leave me, full of years,
Leave me to my quiet rest
In the region of the blest. }}

The day when Charmus ran with five
In Arcady, as I'm alive,
He came in seventh. "Five and one
Make seven, you say ? It can't be done."
Well, if you think it needs a note,
A friend in a fur overcoat
Ran with him, crying all the while,
"You'll beat 'em, Charmus, by a mile!"
And so he came in seventh.
Therefore, good Zoilus, you see
The thing is plain as plain can be;
And with four more for company,
He would have been eleventh.

THE gloom of death is on the raven's wing,
⁠The song of death is in the raven's cries:
But when Demophilus begins to sing,

⁠The raven dies.