Listen, children, <br />Your father is dead. <br />From his old coats <br />I'll make you little jackets; <br />I'll make you little trousers <br />From his old pants. <br />There'll be in his pockets <br />Things he used to put there: <br />Keys and pennies <br />Covered with tobacco. <br />Dan shall have the pennies <br />To save in his bank; <br />Anne shall have the keys <br />To make a pretty noise with. <br />Life must go on <br />And the dead be forgotten; <br />Life must go on <br />Though good men die. <br />Anne, eat your breakfast; <br />Dan, take your medicine. <br />Life must go on; <br />I forget just why.<br /><br />Edna St Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lament-7/
