Ah！ days so dark with death's eclipse！ Woe¹ are we！ woe are we！ And the nights are ages long！ From breaking hearts, thro' pallid² lips O

    my God！ woe are we！ Trembleth the mourner's song； A blight³ is falling on the fair, And hope is dying in despair, And terror walketh everywhere.

    All the hours are full of tears —— O my God！ woe are we！ Grief keeps watch in brightest eyes —— Every heart is strung with fears, Woe are we！ woe are we！ All the light hath left the skies, And the living awe⁴ struck crowds See above them only clouds, And around them only shrouds⁵.

    Ah！ the terrible farewells！ Woe are they！ woe are they！ When last words sink into moans, While life's trembling vesper bells ——O my God！ woe are we！ Ring the awful undertones！ Not a sun in any day！ In the night-time not a ray, And the dying pass away！

    Dark！ so dark！ above —— below —— O my God！ woe are we！ Cowereth every human life. Wild the wailing⁷； to and fro！ Woe are all！ woe are we！ Death is victor in the strife⁸： In the hut and in the hall He is writing on the wall Dooms⁹ for many —— fears for all.

    Thro' the cities burns a breath, Woe are they！ woe are we！ Hot with dread¹⁰ and deadly wrath¹¹； Life and love lock arms in death, Woe are they！ woe are all！ Victims strew¹² the spectre's path； Shy-eyed children softly creep Where their mothers wail⁶ and weep —— In the grave their fathers sleep.

    Mothers waft¹³ their prayers on high, O my God！ woe are we！ With their dead child on their breast. And the altars ask the sky —— O my Christ！ woe are we！ "Give the dead, O Father, rest！ Spare thy people！ mercy！ spare！" Answer will not come to prayer —— Horror moveth everywhere.

    And the temples miss the priest —— O my God！ woe are we！ And the cradle mourns the child. Husband at your bridal feast —— Woe are you！ woe are you！ Think how those poor dead eyes smiled； They will never smile again —— Every tie is cut in twain, All the strength of love is vain.

    Weep？ but tears are weak as foam¹⁴ ——Woe are ye！ woe are we！ They but break upon the shore Winding¹⁵ between here and home -Woe are ye！ woe are we！ Wailing never！ nevermore！ Ah！ the dead！ they are so lone¹⁶, Just a grave, and just a stone, And the memory of a moan.

    Pray！ yes, pray！ for God is sweet —— O my God！ woe are we！ Tears will trickle¹⁷ into prayers When we kneel down at His feet —— Woe

    are we！ woe are we！ With our crosses and our cares. He will calm the tortured breast, He will give the troubled rest —— And the dead He watcheth best. When？ （Death）

    Some day in Spring, When earth is fair and glad, And sweet birds sing, And fewest hearts are sad ——Shall I die then？ Ah！ me, no matter when； I know it will be sweet To leave the homes of men And rest beneath the sod, To kneel and kiss Thy feet In Thy home, O my God！

    Some Summer morn Of splendors¹⁸ and of songs, When roses hide the thorn And smile —— the spirit's wrongs —— Shall I die then？ Ah！ me, no matter when； I know I will rejoice To leave the haunts of men And lie beneath the sod, To hear Thy tender voice In Thy home, O my God！

    Some Autumn eve, When chill clouds drape the sky, When bright things grieve Because all fair things die —— Shall I die then？ Ah！ me, no matter when, I know I shall be glad, Away from the homes of men, Adown beneath the sod, My heart will not be sad In Thy home, O my God！

    Some Wintry day, When all skies wear a gloom, And beauteous May Sleeps in December's tomb, Shall I die then？ Ah！ me, no matter when； My soul shall throb¹⁹ with joy To leave the haunts of men And sleep beneath the sod. Ah！ there is no alloy²⁰ In Thy joys, O my God！

    Haste, death！ be fleet； I know it will be sweet To rest beneath the sod, To kneel and kiss Thy feet In heaven, O my God！