When I no more on earth shall sigh and shiver
Beneath the chill that coldly sweepeth there;
When lo! my spirit shall have crossed the river
To breathe the balsam of a purer air:
Will no one tread where green the grass grows o'er me,
And some dear bird its requiem sings close by?
When earth, that once so glowing spread before me,
No more hath magic for my curtained eye?

Will any tender thought be cast upon me?
Will any loving hand bedeck my bed?
Will any misty eye look earthward on me,
And think of songs and words I've sung and said?
Will little daises peep and peer above me?
And grass-blades (sheathless swords) protect my rest?
Will leafy boughs seem bending o'er to love me,
And look down calmly on my silent breast?

Ah! yes, I know that Nature still will lend me
Those fair sweet things that cheered my path on earth;
And kindly boughs lean o'er me and defend me,
And streams have courses round me,—flowers have birth;
And I will see them from a higher station,
And chant their praises from a higher world;
And spend my time in hymning God's creation,
A new sphere opened, and woe's standard furled!