When the grass shall cover me,
Head to foot, where I am lying;
When not any wind that blows,
Summer blooms nor winter snows,
Shall awake me to your sighing;
Close above me as you pass,
You will say, "How kind she was,"
You will say, "How true she was,"
When the grass grows over me.
When the grass shall cover me,
Holden close to earth's warm bosom;
While I laugh, or weep, or sing
Nevermore, for any thing;
You will find in blade anc^jossom,
Sweet, small voices, iraorous,
Tender pleaders in my cause,
That shall speak me as I was —
When the grass grows over me.
When the grass shall cover me!
Ah, beloved, in my sorrow
Very patient, I can wait —
Knowing that, or soon or late,
There will dawn a clearer morrow;
When your heart will moan, "Alas!
Now I know how true she was;
Now I know how dear she was,"
When the grass grows over me.
