Sleep After Death by Mary Ainge de Vere (Madeline Bridges)

If I were dead, and if the dead might crave
Some little grace to cheer their outcast state,
This I would ask: deep slumber long and late
And sure possession of my lonely grave!
Not to be haunted by the things that were,
And once were dear, nor even by a dream
To be disturbed, however glad and fair—
For perfect rest is dreamless. Lying there,
Deep hidden, safe from Life’s wild rush and stir,
Not knowing that I slept—this bliss would seem
More dear to me than Heaven’s own paradise!
So dear I would not care again to rise;
For eyes that wake must still have tears to weep:
And so “God giveth His beloved sleep!”


Date: 1877

By: Mary Ainge de Vere (Madeline Bridges) (1844-1920)


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