To the fond watchers weeping on the shore;—
Now the sweet vale shall guard its precious trust,
While mourning hearts weep o'er thy silent dust.
Sleep sweetly, gentle child! love's tears are shed
Upon the garlands of fair Northern flowers
That fond hearts strew above thy lowly bed,
Through all our summer's glad and pleasant hours:
For thy sake, and for hers who sleeps beneath the wave,
Kind hands bring flowers to fade upon thy grave.
Sleep sweetly, gentle child! the warm wind sighs