Sing I lowly of my sorrow
Sing I of the wistful morrow
Wistful morrow, calmly breaking
0'er the grave where you lie dead!
0, the morrow, and the morrow!
Bringing no surcease of sorrow
Only anguish and heart-breaking,
And the sad, sad tears I shed.
'Twas the happy wild birds singing,
Softly singing 'mid the ringing
Of the morning bells that sweetly
Told of hope and joy and rest.
'Twas the singing and the ringing
Caught your tender soul upwinging,
And conveyed it gently,
fleetly To the kingdom of the Blest.
0, the sorrow, and the morrow!
Can my life no comfort borrow?
Shall I pass in grief and wailing
All the empty days to come?
Will the future even blur a
Single day of all my sorrow?
Must I mourn you, unavailing
0'er your lonely, lonely, tomb.