"SHE IS NOT DEAD: SHE SLEEPETH."
She is not dead: she only sleeps
Upon the green earth's tranquil breast,
While eve's first star serenely keeps
Its quiet vigil o'er her rest.
No sound disturbs her calm repose,
Sorrow and pain molest her not;
She sleeps, secure from earthly woes,
While angels guard the sacred spot.
Upon the green earth's tranquil breast,
While eve's first star serenely keeps
Its quiet vigil o'er her rest.
No sound disturbs her calm repose,
Sorrow and pain molest her not;
She sleeps, secure from earthly woes,
While angels guard the sacred spot.
Soon shall we see, even as we tread
With solemn steps that calm retreat,
The wild-rose bloom above her head,
The grass grow greener at her feet.
And soon, perchance, will hearts that mourn
For her now low within the tomb,
To other joys triumphant turn,
With other hopes luxuriant bloom.
With solemn steps that calm retreat,
The wild-rose bloom above her head,
The grass grow greener at her feet.
And soon, perchance, will hearts that mourn
For her now low within the tomb,
To other joys triumphant turn,
With other hopes luxuriant bloom.
And yet we may not soon forget;
The true of heart can never die:
Our memory sanctifies them yet,
The light of many a year gone by.
The true of heart can never die:
Our memory sanctifies them yet,
The light of many a year gone by.
