When the pallid lids have fallen
O’er the eyes in dreamless sleep—
Eyes that wake no more with watching
Nor in loneliness will weep,
Will a touch of pity soften—
Warm that unimpassioned gaze?
For a moment will affection
Hallow all their clouded days?
When the heart, no longer beating,
All its painful throbbings o’er—
When it stirs life’s crimson current
With its hopes and fears no more,
Will another heart feel sorrow
For the stillness resting there?
Will it for a whole tomorrow
Wear a saddened shade of care?
When the weary hands are folded
For that long unbroken rest,
And the spirit wings in freedom
To its home among the blest,
Will one tender feeling waken
In that heart a fond regret,
That will last thro’ summer’s blooming—
That will never quite forget?
When the lips are cold and silent—
Hushed for aye their gentle speech,
With love’s whispers dying on them,
Will their mute appealing reach
To the rock-girt fount of feeling?
Will Remorse with stinging rod,
Smite and bring the welling tear-drops
To bedew the new-laid sod?