And faith and trust are dead;
When the heart is crushed 'neath its weight of grief,
And the smile of joy is gone,
When "love's young dream" is past—all past,
Say, who would linger on?
Let me die! ay, lay me down to rest
In the dreamless sleep of death,
Where flowers send forth, at dewy eve,
Their pure and perfumed breath;
Where the bright sunshine will gently fall,