Strew on her roses, roses And never a spray of yew In quiet she reposes Ah! Would that I did too Her mirth the world required She bathed it in smiles of glee But her heart was tired, tired And now they let her be Her life was turning, turning In mazes of heat and sound But for peace her soul was yearning And now peace laps her round Her cabin'd, ample Spirit It flutter'd and fail'd for breath To-night it doth inherit The vasty hall of Death