Dirge for a Young Girl

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!