Classic Poem

" I can scarcely hear, " she murmured,
" For my heart beats loud and fast,
But surely, in the far, far distance,
I can hear a sound at last. "
" It is only the reapers singing,
As they carry home their sheaves;
And the evening breeze has risen,
And rustles the dying leaves.

" Listen! there are voices talking. "
Calmly still she strove to speak,
Yet her voice grew faint and trembling,
And the red flushed in her cheek
" It is only the children playing
Below, now their work is done,
And they laugh that their eyes are dazzled
By the rays of the setting sun. "

Fainter grew her voice, and weaker,
As with anxious eyes she cried,
" Down the avenue of chestnuts,
I can hear a horseman ride. "
" It was only the deer that were feeding
In a herd on the clover-grass,
They were startled, and fled to the thicket,
As they saw the reapers pass. "

Now the night arose in silence,
Birds lay in their leafy nest,
And the deer couched in the forest,
And the children were at rest:
There was only sound of weeping
From watchers around a bed,
But rest to the weary spirit,
Peace to the quiet Dead!