Peaceful be for we have reached it Lighter, lighter ever tread, ’Tis a sacred spot and hallowed: ’Tis the kingdom of the dead.
Silent kingdom, sad and lonely, Though so many in it dwell. Who can number all its people? Who, ah! who can ever tell?
Still and peaceful is their resting In their last and humble bed. Tread ye lightly, ’tis the kingdom Of the sacred holy dead.
Hear ye not the howling wind, Sad and wild? In its wake come dismal fancies Never mild.
Like the moaning of the lost Comes the wind: Moaning, sighing--viewless phantoms Come behind.
In the darkness come the spirits Of the night, Howling, with their dismal groaning In their flight.
Absent friends come in our fancies Evermore, As the demons flee from Hades Rush and roar.
Hear ye not the moaning wind Moan and quiver Like the moaning of the lost-- Lost forever?
Over hill and over valley-- Over meadows rich and green, Playing with the summer grasses-- Fairer sights were never seen.
Not a mortal ever saw me, Though I see THEM ev’ry day; Passing like a viewless spirit On my happy singing way.
Often do I rise up skyward, Chasing fast the cloudlets there, And I drive them headlong onward Till they all in fragments tear.
Often on the field of battle, ’Mid the storm that works them woe, Do I cheer ’mid cannon’s rattle, Kissing both the friend and foe.
And the wounded, as he listens To me as I whistle on, Thinks of home and friends and parents And of days that now have gone.
I often whistle through the woods And toss the hunter’s hair. He sits him down upon a log, While I caress him there.
His brow with sweat is covered o’er-- He feels my cooling sway, I toss about his silver locks; That deck his head of gray.
But on I go until I find The farmer in his field; I whistle o’er his garnered store The willing land doth yield.
He hails me as his merry friend, And thus I am to him; I never pass without I cheer His features calm and grim.
I cheer the poet as he sings Beside some flowing stream, And looks upon the dim, dim past, A vision or a dream.
He hails me, as I sail along, In accents clear and free. I answer in an unknown tongue And pass on cheerily.
He knows me well, and loves me too-- He watches till I find His resting place where he may leave All earthly cares behind.