Poems (Curwen)/Asleep
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For works with similar titles, see Asleep.
Asleep.
They tell me thou art dead, and yet
I cannot weep.
Thou wast so tired, can I regret
That thou dost sleep?
I cannot weep.
Thou wast so tired, can I regret
That thou dost sleep?
They speak of thee in solemn tones
With bated breath:
Thou who art with the blessed ones,
Who know no death.
With bated breath:
Thou who art with the blessed ones,
Who know no death.
They only see thy lifeless clay;
I see thy face
On which the light of a new day
Sheds a new grace.
I see thy face
On which the light of a new day
Sheds a new grace.
They only see dumb lips—
I hear Thy voice again
Saying, "There is no sorrow here,
No loss, no pain."
I hear Thy voice again
Saying, "There is no sorrow here,
No loss, no pain."
Thy life was lone, thy path was steep;
Shall we repine
That God has given the weary sleep
That heav'n is thine?
Shall we repine
That God has given the weary sleep
That heav'n is thine?
I cannot weep, friend, when thou art
At rest for aye;
For thou hast seen the night depart,
Hast welcomed day.
At rest for aye;
For thou hast seen the night depart,
Hast welcomed day.
Rather do I rejoice to hear
The end has come;
For thou hast left thy crosses here
For peace and home.
The end has come;
For thou hast left thy crosses here
For peace and home.