Deep down beneath the world's distress and pain
Beyond the fury of life's ceaseless storm,
To noble souls there is eternal calm;
There fancy sits in bright illumined caves
And hoards the treasures of the stormy waves,
Where quiet truth and beauty ever reign.
Beyond the fury of life's ceaseless storm,
To noble souls there is eternal calm;
There fancy sits in bright illumined caves
And hoards the treasures of the stormy waves,
Where quiet truth and beauty ever reign.
ASLEEP
WRITTEN FOR OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
The bard was good, and Death it had no fears,
So he was waiting but to fall asleep;
His life had been so full and broad and deep
With all the rich experience of years,
And he had seen so much of pomp and peers
And stood so high upon achievements steep
That what was left but just to fall asleep.
They gathered round his bier in grief and tears,
One placed a wreath upon his pulseless breast,
One kissed the lips that never more would sing,
Their tears, their flowers and all that love could bring
Were proffered him e'er he was laid to rest;
And while the nations honored him and wept
The noble bard in sweet oblivion slept.
So he was waiting but to fall asleep;
His life had been so full and broad and deep
With all the rich experience of years,
And he had seen so much of pomp and peers
And stood so high upon achievements steep
That what was left but just to fall asleep.
They gathered round his bier in grief and tears,
One placed a wreath upon his pulseless breast,
One kissed the lips that never more would sing,
Their tears, their flowers and all that love could bring
Were proffered him e'er he was laid to rest;
And while the nations honored him and wept
The noble bard in sweet oblivion slept.
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