A Treasury of South African Poetry and Verse/John Noble
LAY ME LOW.
Lay me low, my work is done;
I am weary, lay me low
Where the wild flowers woo the sun,
Where the balmy breezes blow,
Where the butterfly takes wing,
Where the aspens drooping grow,
Where the young birds chirp and sing—
I am weary, let me go.
I have striven hard and long
In the world's unequal fight
Always to resist the wrong,
Always to maintain the right;
Always with a stubborn heart
Taking, giving blow for blow:
Brother, I have played my part,
And am weary, let me go.
Stern the world and bitter cold,
Irksome, painful to endure;
Everywhere a love of gold,
Nowhere pity for the poor;
Everywhere mistrust, disguise,
Pride, hypocrisy, and show;
Draw the curtain, close mine eyes,
I am weary, let me go.
Others, 'chance, when I am gone,
May restore the battle-call,
Bravely lead the good cause on,
Fighting in the which I fall;
God may quicken some true soul
Here to take my place below
In the heroes' muster-roll:
I am weary, let me go.
Shield and buckler, hang them up;
Drape the standard on the wall:
I have drained the mortal cup
To the finish, dregs and all.
When our work is done 'tis best,
Brother, best that we should go:
I'm aweary, let me rest,
I'm aweary, lay me low.