That we may remember the loved ones who are gone, and be remembered by those who are here.

She Sleeps Beneath the Elms,
Song and Chorus.

"Softly Sing, Love,"
Song and Chorus:

A stand on Memory's Golden
              SHORE:
      Song and Chorus:

              by
    J. P. WEBSTER.

Chicago: Root & Cady, 95 Clark Street.

"She Sleeps Beneath the Elms" (30 Dec 1863)
Words by Josephine Furman.
Music by J[oseph]. P[hilbrick]. Webster. [1819-1875]

Chicago, IL: ROOT & CADY, 95 Clark Street
Plate No. 354  4
[Source: am1266@Mills]

1. My darling sleeps beneath the lofty elms,
Where songbirds warble in their leafy homes,
And soft winds linger in the waving grass,
Then sadly murmur as they onward roam;
Bright dewpearls glitter where the violets hide,
When morn in beauty lightly treads the ground;
The sunshine steals amid the trembling leaves,
And cast its shadows on the little mound.

[CHORUS sung after each VERSE]
[with overlapping voices]
My darling sleeps
  She sleeps,
beneath the lofty elms,
  beneath the elms,
Where songbirds warble in their leafy home;
  Where songbirds warble in their leafy home;
And soft winds linger in the waving grass,
  And soft winds linger in the waving grass
Then sadly murmur as they onward roam.
  Then sadly murmur as they onward roam, as on they roam.

2. Tread softly near the spot where Milly lies,
Do not disturb her sweet and peaceful sleep,
But let her calmly rest beneath the flowers,
Although her waking not, makes fond hearts weep,
And I will dream, that still she lingers here;
With curls unbound, and eyes so brightly blue;
Her soft caress, I feel upon my cheek;
And now my heart her sweet voice echoes through.

3. But oh! the sadness resting on my soul,
Still wakes the heart throb as it did of old,
When fancy brings me back that little form
In all its beauty with its curls of gold;
How gently on that day when Milly died,
The sun in ambient glory sunk to rest;
Her sweet young life departed with his rays,
And twilight shadows gathered o’er the west.

4. Those selfsame shadows cling around me yet,
And dim my life the brightness of today;
And yet I know my loved one has but gone,
To that fair home with angels far away;
But still how dear the spot beneath the elms;
My poor heart deems that still she resteth there,
And dearer far than costly gems or pearls,
I prize the tiny curl of golden hair.