WHERE shall ye lay me? not in foreign climes,
Where stranger winds would sadly waft the unaccustom'd chimes;
Where my weary spirit would in pain a lonely vigil keep,--
Oh! in that distant land, I pray, lay me not to sleep.

Where shall ye lay me? not where mermaids sigh,
'Mid the roughly chafing billows, so dolefully;
And, longing for the summer days, o'er shipwreck'd sailors weep,--
Within the waves of the deep dark sea lay me not to sleep.

Where shall ye lay me? not on mountain brow,
Where the white snow lies, and the dark firs grow;
I do not love the precipice and chasm's yawning deep,--
Upon the frowning mountain, then, lay me not to sleep.

Where shall ye lay me? not 'mid haunts of men,
Where crime and poverty peep out from every crowded den,
Where loud the ceaseless bells would clang, Death's harvest-ears to reap,--
Oh! in the city's busy range lay me not to sleep.

Where shall ye lay me? far far away,
Where freshly in the early spring the dancing leaflets play.
Tall poplars by my grave long watch shall keep;
There, by those I lov'd in life, lay me to sleep.