There′s something quieter than sleep
Within this inner room!
It wears a sprig opon its breast –
And will not tell it′s name –

Some touch it, and some kiss it –
Some chafe it′s idle hand –
It has a simple gravity
I do not understand!

I would not weep if I were they –
How rude in one to sob!
Might scare the quiet fairy
Back to her native wood!

While simple-hearted neighbors
Chat of the ′′Early dead′′ –
We – prone to periphrasis,
Remark that Birds have fled!