I am weary of this loving and this grieving, Lay me down beneath the bending willows, Strew upon me petals of the bleeding roses, O my mourners. I am weary of this loving and this sighing, Bring me sweet Aljulia ere I meet the boatman By the shining waters of the mystic river, O my mourners. Let me hear the breezes singing low of Heaven, Let me feel the cool of earth upon my body, Let me hear the laughter of the little children, O my mourners. |