And pensively stood by his tomb,
When in a low whisper I heard something say:
How sweetly I sleep here alone.
And gathering storms may arise,
But calm is my feeling, at rest is my soul,
The tears are all wiped from my eyes.
No kindred or relative nigh.
I met the contagion and sank to the tomb,
My soul flew to mansions on high.
To weep not for me now I'm gone.
The same hand that led me through seas most severe
Has kindly assisted me home.

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