Dirge of Rachel

AND Rachel lies in Ephrath’s land,

Beneath her lonely oak of weeping;

With mouldering heart and withering hand,

The sleep of death forever sleeping.

The spring comes smiling down the vale,

The lilacs and the roses bringing;

But Rachel never more shall hail

The flowers that in the world are springing.

The summer gives his radiant day,

And Jewish dames the dance are treading;

But Rachel, on her couch of clay,

Sleeps all unheeded and unheeding.

The autumn’s ripening sunbeam shines,

And reapers to the field is calling;

But Rachel’s voice no longer joins

The choral song at twilight’s falling.

The winter sends his drenching shower,

And sweeps his howling blast around her,

But earthly storms possess no power

To break the slumber that hath bound her.