A SONG FOR ALL MARIES. Our Master lies asleep and is at rest; His Heart has ceased to bleed, His Eye to weep. The sun ashamed has dropt down in the west; Our Master lies asleep. Now we are they who weep, and trembling keep Vigil, with wrung heart in a sighing breast, While slow time creeps, and slow the shadows creep. Renew Thy youth, as eagle from the nest; O Master, who hast sown, arise to reap: No co*k-crow yet, no flush on eastern crest; Our Master lies asleep.