Serena Sleeps

Serena Sleeps

Serena, dead? oh no, she sleeps

Beneath the massy ground;

While the tender mother weeps,

And sisters moan around.

Serena sleeps in silent rest,

Nipp'd with the budding rose;

But. oh, she is supremely blest,

In sweet and calm repose.

Serena sleeps, that infant sweet!

Soft on the lap of love;

Where bright seraphicmillions greet

Her spotless soul above!

Serena sleeps, but hark - behold!

She sweetly strikes the lyre!

Treads refulgent streets of gold!

And soars on wings of fire!

Serena lives a life sublime!

Oh! then, suppress he the tear;

And hope beyond the scenes of time,

To hail thine infant dear!

Unattributed

2:28, p. 222

1828.10.03