Strew your gladness on earth's bed, So be merry, so be dead.
All the hills and vales along Earth is bursting into song, And the singers are the chaps Who are going to die perhaps.
When it is peace, then we may view again With new-won eyes each other's truer form And wonder. Grown more loving-kind and warm We'll grasp firm hands and laugh at the old pain When it is peace. But until peace, the storm The darkness and the thunder and the rain.
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