The sluggish streams that slowly creep below,
Which mortals visit and return no more.
Farewell, ye blooming fields! ye cheerful plains!
Enough for me the church yard's lonely mound,
Where melancholy with still silence reigns,
And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerful ground.
There let me wander at the close of eve,
When sleep sits dewy on the laborer's eyes,
The world and all its busy follies leave,
And talk with wisdom where my Daphnis lies.
There let me sleep, forgotten in the day.
When death shall close these weary aching eyes,
Rest in the hopes of an eternal day,
Till the long night is gone, & the last morn arise.