White With Daisies And Red With Sorrel And Empty, Empty Under The Sky!-- Life Is A Quest And Love A Quarrel-- Here Is A Place For Me To Lie. Daisies Spring From Damned Seeds, And This Red Fire That Here I See Is A Worthless Crop Of Crimson Weeds, Cursed By Farmers Thriftily. But Here, Unhated For An Hour, The Sorrel Runs In Ragged Flame, The Daisy Stands, A Bastard Flower, Like Flowers That Bear An Honest Name. And Here A While, Where No Wind Brings The Baying Of A Pack Athirst, May Sleep The Sleep Of Blessed Things, The Blood Too Bright, The Brow Accurst.