'Ah, little boy! I see
  You have a wooden spade.
Into this sand you dig
  So deep - for what?' I said.
'There's more rich gold,' said he,
  'Down under where I stand,
Than twenty elephants
  Could move across the land.'

'Ah, little girl with wool! -
  What are you making now?'
'Some stockings for a bird,
  To keep his legs from snow.'
And there those children are,
  So happy, small, and proud:
The boy that digs his grave,
  The girl that knits her shroud.