It hath been said, “for all who die,

There is a tear;

Some pining, bleeding heart to sigh,

O’er every bier;”

But in that hour of pain and dread,

Who will draw near,

Around my humble couch, and shed

One farewell tear?

Who watch life’s last dim parting ray,

In deep despair,

And soothe my spirit on its way,

With holy prayer?

What mourner round my bier will come,

In weeds of wo,

And follow me to my long home,

Solemn and slow?

When lying on my clayey bed,

In icy sleep,

Who there, by pure affection led,

Will come and weep?

And by the moon implant the rose

Upon my breast,

And bid it cheer my dark repose,

My lowly rest?

Could I but know when I am sleeping

Low in the ground,

One faithful heart would there be keeping

Watch all night round,

As if some gem lay shrined beneath

That sod’s cold gloom,

’Twould mitigate the pangs of death,

And light the tomb.

Yes! in that hour, if I could feel,

From halls of glee

And Beauty’s presence, one would steal

In secresy,

And come and sit and weep by me

In night’s deep noon;

Oh! I would ask of memory

No other boon.

But, ah! a lonelier fate is mine—

A deeper wo;

From all I love in youth’s sweet time

I soon must go,

Drawn round me my pale robes of white

In a dark spot,

To sleep through death’s long, dreamless night,

Lone and forgot.