_Sorrow’S Waking._

Once a maiden, Heavy-laden, Sought to borrow Sleep from sorrow.

Sweet the taking, But the waking In the numbness And the dumbness Of the day-dawn, With the grey lawn Softly plaining In the raining, And the meadows Hid in shadows, Was more dreary Than the weary Mounds which sever Hearts forever, Where Death’s reaping Leaves man sleeping In God’s keeping.