POEMS.
103
Soon our mortal race is run,—
Our work on earth forever done.
The churchyard has for me a charm:
No fear have I of grief or harm.
Our work on earth forever done.
The churchyard has for me a charm:
No fear have I of grief or harm.
I have prayed for death in its darkest form,
To relieve me from this world's cold storm
So cruelly beating o'er my poor head,
Till forever at rest with the sleeping dead.
To relieve me from this world's cold storm
So cruelly beating o'er my poor head,
Till forever at rest with the sleeping dead.
Why should we in this dark world stay?
In Heaven there shines eternal day.
Oft I ask of God, in sore distress,
How long ere He will give me rest.
In Heaven there shines eternal day.
Oft I ask of God, in sore distress,
How long ere He will give me rest.
My sorrows all ended, I gone to my God,
I long for this quiet beneath the green sod.
Tread softly, my loved ones, over my head,
While gazing upon my calm and quiet bed.
I long for this quiet beneath the green sod.
Tread softly, my loved ones, over my head,
While gazing upon my calm and quiet bed.
DEAD LOVE.
It comes too late, that smile alluring;
Too late for me the smothered sigh;
The love is dead, so long enduring,
For one who passed me coldly by.
