Page:Florence Earle Coates Mine and Thine 1904 103.jpg

 Shall baseless terrors mock my peace,

And chide desired Sleep away?

Forbidding her to close mine eyes,

Tormenting me when I would pray?

The years are long; yet time hath sped,

And Earth forgets what once she knew,

For hidden far beneath her view,

The grasses wave above my dread.

The guests attend me. Wake, my will!

Put off this garb of sullen gloom!

The dead may neither wound nor blight;

And vengeance slumbers in the tomb.

Be thou but firm, and all's secure:

Match well thy purpose to the hour,

Nor babble what is voiceless still,—

Not Eblis shall abase thy power!