Classic Poem

Softly, my heart! For you soon will repose,
Soon unto clay will be turning.
Wild was your beating, but weary it grows,
Now for green peace it is yearning.
Under the murmuring lindens deep
Soon shall you wait in your lonely sleep.

Faithful you 've throbbed these many long years,
Sorrows and joys you have given,
Causing me laughter and causing me tears,
Causing my guilt before heaven.
But, if you sinned, you would ne'er shun the cost;
Glowing, remorseful, 't was you suffered most.