And she's gone before, boys, And Tommy's dead. She was always sweet, boys, Upon his curly head, She knew she'd never see't, boys, And she stole off to bed; I've been sitting up alone, boys, For he'd come home, he said, Put the shutters up, boys, Bring out the beer and bread, Make haste and sup, boys, For my eyes are heavy as lead; There's something wrong i' the cup, boys, There's something ill wi' the bread, I don't care to sup, boys, And Tommy's dead. I'm not right, I doubt, boys, I've such a sleepy head, I shall never more be stout, boys, You may carry me to bed. The prayers are all said, The stairs are too steep, boys, I'm not used to kiss, boys, You may shake my hand instead. All things go amiss, boys, You may lay me where she is, boys, he clouds of fear, a happy day, aven about her here, w much! with her away. Richard Monckton Milnes [1809-1885] HER EPITAPH ere, that once was Mary's earth, it breathed, so beautiful a soul, e died, all recognized her birth, eir sorrow in serene control. "Not here! not here!" to every mourner's heart The wintry wind seemed whispering round her bier; And when the tomb-door opened, with a start We heard it echoed from within,-"Not here!" Shouldst thou, sad pilgrim, who mayst hither pass, Should spring come earlier to this hallowed grass, Know that her spirit to her body lent Such sweetness, grace, as only goodness can; Lonely through life, but looking for the day Thomas William Parsons [1819-1892] THE DEATH-BED WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied- For when the morn came dim and sad, Her quiet eyelids closed-she had Another morn than ours. Thomas Hood (1799-1845] "SOFTLY WOO AWAY HER BREATH" SOFTLY WOO away her breath, Gentle Death! Let her leave thee with no strife, Tender, mournful, murmuring Life! She hath done her bidding here, Bear her perfect soul above, Seraph of the skies,-sweet Love! Bryan Waller Procter [1787-1874] A DEATH-BED HER suffering ended with the day, Yet lived she at its close, And breathed the long, long night away In statue-like repose. But when the sun in all his state Illumed the eastern skies, She passed through Glory's morning gate And walked in Paradise. James Aldrich [1810-1856] "SHE DIED IN BEAUTY" SHE died in beauty,-like a rose |