"And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm."

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It is not death to have the body called back to the earth, and dissolved into its kindred elements, and mouldered to dust, and, it may be, turn to daisies, in the grave. But it is death to have the soul paralyzed, its inner life quenched, its faculties dissipated; that is death.

— Edwin Hubbel Chapin