The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so gray?
Oh, I do think it’s the pleasantest thing
When ever a child may sway!

Up in the air, having a blast,
I can see far and wide,
Lives lived, lives passed
Over the boneyard I glide —

Until I spot in white and yellow
Flowers gently springing —
Let me tell you, my dear fellow
Death is just the beginning!