Beneath the brier patch

hidden from the sun

silent as a moonbeam

the rabbits race is run.

Fur and life are parted

breath has sighed its last

paws no longer drumming

death's grip is holding fast.

Once full of joy and sunshine

a scrap of pulsing life 

now all joy and woe forgotten

gone happiness and strife.

Hear the blue flies a-buzzing

they greedily swarm and feast

 death's ever dour attendants

they sanctify the beast.