Bury in cold and chilly earth
Unfeeling, chilly hearts--
To her embrace let them return
From out the crowded marts
Of cities, lost to joyous mirth.
But one, young, gentle and refined
Whose clay must lie rest,
For such fair temple let us find
A place 'neath ocean's breast
And bid her lie where waves are kind.
It is not well that fair and lovely forms
Should rest where worms may crawl,
'Neath damp and callous earth at last
The rounded limbs that did enthrall--
Dead shells on ocean's bed are safe from storms!
Then place her there and shed no tears,
Where wave the tinted arms of weeds
With rainbow hands and prismic eyes,
O leave here there at last! 'neath reeds
That rise and fall through days and years.
The glow of pearls close by her head,
The trailing weed a winding sheet,
Where colored fishes softly kiss
And tufty moss upholds her feet,
Where ocean flowers adorn the dead.