Sarah Helen Whitman

“ Sweet, mournful eyes, long closed upon earth's sorrow
Sleep restfully after life's fevered dream!
Sleep, wayward heart! till on some cool, bright morrow
Thy soul, refreshed, shall bathe in morning's beam.
Though cloud and sorrow rest upon thy story,
And rude hands lift the drapery of thy pall,
Time, as a birthright, shall restore the glory,
And Heaven rekindle all the stars that fall. ”