Is my love afraid of the quiet dead?
Ah! let them alone in their dusty bed!
See, see, see! by the gallows-tree,
As they dance on the wheels' broad hoop,
Up and down in the gleam of the moon
Half lost, an airy group: Ho! ho! mad mob, come hither amain,
And join in the wake of my rushing train;
Come, dance me a dance, ye dancers thin,
Ere the planks of the marriage-bed close us in.