POEMS.
79
WEEP NOT FOR ME.
Weep not for me, when I am dead,
And laid within my narrow bed;
Shed not a tear o'er my lone bier,—
With the trumpet-sound I shall appear.
Weep not for me, but let me rest,
With cold hands folded o'er the breast.
Think how sweet my sleep will be,—
Prepare for death, then follow me.
With cold hands folded o'er the breast.
Think how sweet my sleep will be,—
Prepare for death, then follow me.
Weep not for me; but pray to God
That when thou liest beneath the sod,
Thy troubles o'er and sorrows past,
That we may meet in Heaven at last.
That when thou liest beneath the sod,
Thy troubles o'er and sorrows past,
That we may meet in Heaven at last.
Weep not for me; with heart oppress'd,
I've longed so much for this sweet rest.
Should sorrows ever rend thy heart,
You'll wish, like me, from earth to part.
I've longed so much for this sweet rest.
Should sorrows ever rend thy heart,
You'll wish, like me, from earth to part.
Weep not for me, but save your tears;
You'll need them all in after years.
And many tears perhaps you'll shed
Ere you lie sleeping with the dead.
You'll need them all in after years.
And many tears perhaps you'll shed
Ere you lie sleeping with the dead.
