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Rosenhoff

Wet field of grass
Though the land markers grasp
is a symbol of what comes to pass.

Man tills the ground
O, makes he a mound
To lie in where earthworms abound.

We were formed of the ground
What we build breaks down
It is gone, it remembers no more.

From deathbed at home
to our towers of stone,
the dust can't tell rock from the bone.

What's left are the words,
both spoken and heard
All the rest lies forgot
In the cairn.

We were formed of the ground
What we build breaks down
It is gone, it remembers no more.

All of our days are like grass
In a moment they pass
They are gone, they remember no more.