| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | II. Rest
Ex humo | | Anonymous |
| | | SHOULD you dream ever of the days departed, | |
| Of youth and morning, no more to return,— | |
| Forget not me, so fond and passionate-hearted, | |
| Quiet at last reposing | |
| Under the moss and fern. | 5 |
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| There where the fretful lake in stormy weather | |
| Comes circling round the reddening churchyard pines, | |
| Rest—and call back the hours we lost together | |
| Talking of hope, and soaring | |
| Beyond poor Earth’s confines. | 10 |
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| If, for these heavenly dreams too dimly sighted, | |
| You become false—why, ’tis a story old; | |
| I, overcome by pain, and unrequited, | |
| Faded at last, and slumber | |
| Under the Autumn mould. | 15 |
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| Farewell, farewell! No longer plighted lovers, | |
| Doomed for a day to sigh for sweet return; | |
| One lives indeed; one heart the green earth covers— | |
| Quiet at last—reposing | |
| Under the moss and fern. | 20 | | | |
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