There's something quieter than sleep Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast - And will not tell its name. Some touch it, and some kiss it - Some chafe its idle hand - It has a simple gravity I do not understand! I would not weep if I were they - How rude in one to sob! Might scare the quiet fairy Back to her native wood! While simple-hearted neighbors Chat of the "Early dead" - We - prone to periphrasis Remark that Birds have fled! |