WHEN He returns, and finds the world so drear,
All sleeping, young and old, unfair and fair,
Will he stoop down and whisper in each ear,
-Awaken!� or for pity-s sake forbear,
Saying, -How shall I meet their frozen stare
Of wonder, and their eyes so full of fear?
How shall I comfort them in their despair,
If they cry out, -Too late! let us sleep here-?�
Perchance He will not wake us up, but when
He sees us look so happy in our rest,
Will murmur, -Poor dead women and dead men!
Dire was their doom, and weary was their quest.
Wherefore awake them into life again?
Let them sleep on untroubled-it is best.�