Dead men are wisest, for they know
How far the roots of flowers go,
How long a seed must rot to grow.
Dead men alone bear frost and rain
On throbless heart and heatless brain,
And feel no stir of joy or pain.
Dead men alone are satiate;
They sleep and dream and have no weight,
To curb their rest, of love or hate.
Strange, men should flee their company,
Or think me strange who long to be
When the dead “sleep, and dream and have no weight” there’s the literal  sense of sleeping, dreaming and having no weight, but there’s also the intellectual sense,  where the time spent on not being stressed and overthinking deeply reevaluates the generalizations like love or hate.