| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XVII. Bereavement
From ‘To J. S.’ | | By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892) |
| | | WORDS weaker than your grief would make | |
| Grief more. ’Twere better I should cease; | |
| Although myself could almost take | |
| The place of him that sleeps in peace. | |
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| Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace: | 5 |
| Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, | |
| While the stars burn, the moons increase, | |
| And the great ages onward roll. | |
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| Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. | |
| Nothing comes to thee new or strange. | 10 |
| Sleep full of rest from head to feet; | |
| Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. | | | | |
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