Underneath the sod, low lying,
⁠Dark and drear,
Sleepeth one who left, in dying,
⁠Sorrow here.

Yes, they 're ever bending o'er her,
⁠Eyes that weep;
Forms, that to the cold grave bore her,
⁠Vigils keep.

When the summer moon is shining
⁠Soft and fair,
Friends she loved in tears are twining
⁠Chaplets there.

​Rest in peace, thou gentle spirit,
⁠Throned above;
Souls like thine with God inherit
⁠Life and love!