Strew on her roses, roses
And never a spray of yew
In quiet she reposes
Ah! Would that I did too

Her mirth the world required
She bathed it in smiles of glee
But her heart was tired, tired
And now they let her be

Her life was turning, turning
In mazes of heat and sound
But for peace her soul was yearning
And now peace laps her round

Her cabin'd, ample Spirit
It flutter'd and fail'd for breath
To-night it doth inherit
The vasty hall of Death