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Louisa May Alcott - Mary`s Dream
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The moon had climbed the eastern hill
        Which rises o`er the sands of Dee,
        And from its highest summit shed
        A silver light on tower and tree,
        When Mary laid her down to sleep
        (Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea);
        When soft and low a voice was heard,
        Saying, `Mary, weep no more for me.`


        She from her pillow gently raised
        Her head, to see who there might be,
        And saw young Sandy, shivering stand
        With visage pale and hollow e`e.
        `Oh Mary dear, cold is my clay;
        It lies beneath the stormy sea;
        Far, far from thee, I sleep in death.
        Dear Mary, weep no more for me.


        `Three stormy nights and stormy days
        We tossed upon the raging main.
        And long we strove our bark to save;
        But all our striving was in vain.
        E`en then, when terror chilled my blood,
        My heart was filled with love of thee.
        The storm is past, and I`m at rest;
        So, Mary, weep no more for me.


        `Oh maiden dear, yourself prepare;
        We soon shall meet upon that shore
        Where love is free from doubt and care,
        And you and I shall part no more.`
        Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;
        No more her Sandy did she see;
        But soft the passing spirit said,
        `Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.`
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