So thin, so soft, so sweet they glide,
So near to press they seem,
They lull us gently to our rest,
They melt into our dream.
And, in the hush of rest they bring,
’Tis easy now to see,
How lovely and how sweet to pass
The hour of death may be;—
To close the eye and close the ear,
Wrapped in a trance of bliss,