1 She sleeps--a weary one--
Rash boy, arouse her not;
Her slumbers will be past full soon,
For toilsome is her lot.
2 She sleeps--be quiet, now,
Thou young and thoughtless child,
Look on thy mother's placid brow,
Thy words be low and mild.
3 Through many a silent night
She's watch'd with thee alone;
And found no joy with morning light,
When joy from thee was gone.
4 When sickness laid thee low,
She sat beside thy bed;
When fever burn'd upon thy brow,
Her cool hand there was laid.
5 Then softly, gently tread,
And speak in accents low;
How soon she'll sleep as sleep the dead,
O child, thou canst not know.Source: Linden Harp: a rare collection of popular melodies adapted to sacred and moral songs, original and selected. Illustrated. Also a manual of... #64a