Sleep On, Dear, Now The Last Sleep And The Best, And On Thy Brow, And On Thy Quiet Breast Violets I Throw. Thy Scanty Years Were Mine A Little While; Life Had No Fears To Trouble Thy Brief Smile With Toil Or Tears. Lie Still, And Be For Evermore A Child! Not Grudgingly, Whom Life Has Not Defiled, I Render Thee. Slumber So Deep, No Man Would Rashly Wake; I Hardly Weep, Fain Only, For Thy Sake. To Share Thy Sleep. Yes, To Be Dead, Dead, Here With Thee To-Day,-- When All Is Said 'Twere Good By Thee To Lay My Weary Head. The Very Best! Ah, Child So Tired Of Play, I Stand Confessed: I Want To Come Thy Way, And Share Thy Rest.