Fold her hands upon her breast, <br />And let her sweetly sleep. <br />She has found a perfect rest, <br />Beneath her winding sheet. <br /> <br />Her weary limbs are now at rest, <br />And free from toil and pain; <br />Her weary soul from earth has left, <br />But in Heaven lives again. <br /> <br />Death has closed her mild blue eyes, <br />That once was full of mirth, <br />Her lovely form once full of life, <br />Will now return to earth. <br /> <br />Touch her gently, let her lie, <br />This forsaken girl forlorn; <br />Tears may fall from strangers' eyes, <br />O'er her silent form. <br /> <br />She was a poor erring girl, <br />A wanderer alone, <br />Friends she had none in this world, <br />Nor a place she could call home. <br /> <br />She's found a home bright and fair <br />In that world above, <br />Angels dwell together there, <br />In perfect peace and love, <br /> <br />Place her gently in her grave, <br />And let her sweetly sleep. <br />Judge her not; for he who gave <br />Her life, her soul will keep.<br /><br />Julia A Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unfortunate-2/
