“I have laid sorrow to sleep;
Love sleeps.
She who oft made me weep
Now weeps.”

“Ever sits the lady weeping —
Weeping night and day —
One perpetual vigil keeping,
Till life pass away,
And she join the seven who sleep.”

“When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!'weep!
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.”

“I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps.”

“I would not even have him weep
O'er his Italian love's last sleep.
Oh, tears are a most worthless token,
When hearts they would have soothed are broken.”

“We weep before the Blessed Mother's shrine,
To think upon her sorrows, but her joys
What nun could ever know a tithing of?
The precious hours she watched above His sleep
Were worth the fearful anguish of the end.
Yea, lack of love is bitterest of all.”

“A baby was sleeping,
Its mother was weeping,
For her husband was far on the wild-raging sea.”

“From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands
and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.”

“And weeping fast as she had breath
Janet implored us, "Wake her from her sleep!"
And would not be instructed in how deep
Was the forgetful kingdom of death.”

“Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.”