Signs And Tokens

Said the red-cloaked crone     In a whispered moan:     "The dead man was limp     When laid in his chest;     Yea, limp; and why     But to signify     That the grave will crimp     Ere next year's sun     Yet another one     Of those in that house -     It may be the best -     For its endless drowse!"     Said the brown-shawled dame     To confirm the same:     "And the slothful flies     On the rotting fruit     Have been seen to wear     While crawling there     Crape scarves, by eyes     That were quick and acute;     As did those that had pitched     On the cows by the pails,     And with flaps of their tails     Were far away switched."     Said the third in plaid,     Each word being weighed:     "And trotting does     In the park, in the lane,     And just outside     The shuttered pane,     Have also been heard -     Quick feet as light     As the feet of a sprite -     And the wise mind knows     What things may betide     When such has occurred."     Cried the black-craped fourth,     Cold faced as the north:     "O, though giving such     Some head-room, I smile     At your falterings     When noting those things     Round your domicile!     For what, what can touch     One whom, riven of all     That makes life gay,     No hints can appal     Of more takings away!"