SCRoots, THE LAST PLACE OF SLEEP

THE LAST PLACE OF SLEEP
by Mary E. Lee

Lay me not in green-wood lone,
Where the sad wind maketh moan,
Where the sun hath never shone,
    Save as if in sadness;
Nor, I pray thee, let me be
Buried 'neath the chill, cold sea,
    Chafe themselves to madness.

But in yon enclosure small,
Near the church-yard's mossy wall,
Where the dew and sunlight fall,
    I would have my dwelling;
Sure there are some friends, I wot,
Who would make that narrow spot,
Lovely as a garden plot,
    With rich perfumes swelling.

Let no costly stone be brought,
Where a stranger's hand hath wrought
Vain inscription, speaking naught
    To the true affections;
But, above the quiet bed,
Where I rest my weary head,
Plant those buds, whose perfumes shed
    Tenderest recollections.

Then, as every year, the tide
Of strong death bears to my side,
Those, who were by love allied,
    As the flowers of summer;
Sweet to think, that from the mould
Of my body long since cold,
Plants of beauty shall enfold
    Every dear new-comer.

Mary Elizabeth Lee (1813-1849) was a resident of South Carolina living in both Charleston and Camden. She contributed poems and stories to numerous publications including The Southern Literary Messenger, the Knickerbocker, the Magnolia, and the Orion.

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