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4
THE POST OF HONOR.
When last we climbed to yon high, leafy crest
To watch the sunlight fading in the west,
Ah, little thought I that this hand would trace
These words of grief above thy burial-place.
Thou hast our tears; but lo! the clouds depart,
Our brother sleeps with sunshine on his heart;
The storm hag passed, the seas are silent now,
And Heaven's sweet smile has settled on his brow.

Our added years! What though to these we bow,
Farewell the Past! All hail the eventful Now!
What though grave fathers, still my friends, I meet,
Whose nursery floors are worn with little feet,—
What though, companion of my former years,
Thy face at market every morn appears,
While I, still ignorant as the greenest baize
What "goods domestic" go the greatest ways,
Grope blindly homeward to my noontide meal,
Unknowing what my damask may reveal;—
Heart leaps to heart, and warmer grasps the hand,
When Autumn's bugle re-unites our band!