Sing to thy child, the sick-hearted,
Songs for a spirit oppress’d.
Lay this tired head on thy breast!
Flowers from the night-dew are closing,
Pilgrims and mourners reposing:
Mother! oh, sing me to rest!
Take back thy bird to its nest!
Weary is young life when blighted,
Heavy this love unrequited;
—Mother, oh! sing me to rest!