Link To This Page  Share this page:  The Dead  by Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow  From Klopstock.  How they so softly rest,
All, all the the holy dead, Unto whose dwelling-place Now doth
my soul draw near! How they so softly rest, All in their silent
graves, Deep to corruption Slowly down sinking!  And they no
longer weep, Here, where complaint is still! And they no longer
feel, Here, where all gladness flies! And by the cypresses
Softly o'ershadowed, Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber!
Longfellow's Poetical Works Copyright 1893 Henry Frowde, London