It is night, I should be sleeping
Not watching the curtains blow
There is no breeze, yet they move.
From their folds a misty figure reaches
Cold fingers to caress my face
I cringe from her touch.
And silently cry
"Oh Spirit! What brings you hither?
What calls you
From your peaceful grave? "
A voice like faint bells ringing
Over a distant valley came to me.
I looked into the face of Death
And Life looked back at me.
"They've all gone, my man, my children
In the churchyard now they lie
I have never known such sorrow
To cut a wound so deep.
The baby was washed and laid upon
His little forever bed.
His honeyed potion ( pointless now)
Paused but a moment on my tongue
But gave balm to my sorrowing soul.
Death was there with upswept wings
She outspread one and in I crept
"Come," she murmured "come and rest"
But I could not waken and thus I died.
My sins lie heavy on my heart.
Pray for me. Oh Pray for me."