I Am Afraid To Think About My Death, When It Shall Be, And Whether In Great Pain I Shall Rise Up And Fight The Air For Breath Or Calmly Wait The Bursting Of My Brain. I Am No Coward Who Could Seek In Fear A Folklore Solace Or Sweet Indian Tales: I Know Dead Men Are Deaf And Cannot Hear The Singing Of A Thousand Nightingales. I Know Dead Men Are Blind And Cannot See The Friend That Shuts In Horror Their Big Eyes, And They Are Witless--O I'd Rather Be A Living Mouse Than Dead As A Man Dies.