CCXCVI A Dirge
Softly! she is lying
With her lips apart:
Softly! she is dying
Of a broken heart.
Whisper! she is going 5
To her final rest:
Whisper! life is growing
Dim within her breast.
Gently! she is sleeping,
She has breathed her last: 10
Gently! while you’ are weeping,
She to Heaven has past.
Charles Gamage Eastman.