Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume III. Sorrow and Consolation. 1904. | | | | V. Death and Bereavement | | Rest | | Mary Woolsey Howland (1832–1864) |
| | | I LAY me down to sleep, | |
| With little care | |
| Whether my waking find | |
| Me here, or there. | |
| |
| A bowing, burdened head | 5 |
| That only asks to rest, | |
| Unquestioning, upon | |
| A loving breast. | |
| |
| My good right-hand forgets | |
| Its cunning now; | 10 |
| To march the weary march | |
| I know not how. | |
| |
| I am not eager, bold, | |
| Nor strong,—all that is past; | |
| I am ready not to do, | 15 |
| At last, at last. | |
| |
| My half-day’s work is done, | |
| And this is all my part,— | |
| I give a patient God | |
| My patient heart; | 20 |
| |
| And grasp his banner still, | |
| Though all the blue be dim; | |
| These stripes as well as stars | |
| Lead after him. | | | | |
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