Sound Sleep

Some are laughing, some are weeping; She is sleeping, only sleeping. Round her rest wild flowers are creeping; There the wind is heaping, heaping Sweetest sweets of Summer’s keeping. By the corn-fields ripe for reaping.

There are lilies, and there blushes The deep rose, and there the thrushes Sing till latest sunlight flushes In the west; a fresh wind brushes 10 Through the leaves while evening hushes.

There by day the lark is singing And the grass and weeds are springing; There by night the bat is winging; There for ever winds are bringing Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing.

Night and morning, noon and even, Their sound fills her dreams with Heaven: The long strife at lent is striven: Till her grave-bands shall be riven 20 Such is the good portion given To her soul at rest and shriven.

SONG

She sat and sang alway By the green margin of a stream, Watching the fishes leap and play Beneath the glad sunbeam.

I sat and wept alway Beneath the moon’s most shadowy beam, Watching the blossoms of the May Weep leaves into the stream.

I wept for memory; She sang for hope that is so fair: 10 My tears were swallowed by the sea; Her songs died on the air.

SONG

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; 10 I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.