by Phoebe Carey
Earth to earth, and dust to dust:
Here, in calm and holy trust,
We have made her quiet bed
With the pale hosts of the dead,
And, with hearts that, stricken, weep,
Come to lay her down to sleep.
From life's weary cares set free,
Mother Earth, she comes to thee!
Hiding from its ills and storms
In the shelter of thine arms:
Peaceful, peaceful be her rest,
Here upon thy faithful breast.
And when sweetly from the dust
Heaven's last summons calls the just,
Saviour! when the nations rise
Up to meet thee in the skies,
Gently, gently, by the hand,
Lead her to the better land!
Source:The Poems Of Phoebe Carey
New York: Hurst And Company