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sunny

Rest

A rest remaineth; is then rest so good?
The hope of weariness, a promise sweet
To labouring souls, but wherefore rest in Heaven?

Deeper than any thought of man,
Sweeter than any dream of man,

A Song Of Comfort

John McCrae

"Sleep, weary ones, while ye may --
Sleep, oh, sleep!"
Eugene Field.

Thro' May time blossoms, with whisper low,
The soft wind sang to the dead below:

The Cynotaph

The Cynotaph

Poor Tray charmant!
Poor Tray de mon Ami!
-- Dog-bury, and Vergers.

Oh! where shall I bury my poor dog Tray,
Now his fleeting breath has pass'd away?

Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song I

Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song I

Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam
Of golden sunlight shines
On the rippling waves, that brightly flow
Beneath the flowering vines.

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