Where I Would Sleep.
Not in a crowded City of the Dead,1
Set ’mid a living city’s ceaseless roar,2
Would I lay down my tired heart and head3
When Life’s perplexed, troubled dream is o’er ;4
But I would choose a little grass-grown bed5
In some old kirkyard by a lonely shore,6
Where, as I lay in Death’s dear, dreamless sleep,7
Like an unwearied mother would the sea—8
The sleepless sea—her long watch o’er me keep ;9
And, sweet as my dead mother’s song to me,10
Soothing me into slumber, yet more deep,11
The waves eternal lullaby would be.12