Ashes to Ashes.
"Brother,—"
"Yes, I listen, brother."
"Yes, I listen, brother."
———"Say 'Our father' once again;
For a strange, new light seems dawning
On the stupor of my brain;
And my soul seems reaching upward,
With a motion new and bold.
Brother,—Oh! his hand hath frozen!
And my own is freezing cold."
For a strange, new light seems dawning
On the stupor of my brain;
And my soul seems reaching upward,
With a motion new and bold.
Brother,—Oh! his hand hath frozen!
And my own is freezing cold."
Dark and fair, they slumbered there;
New England boy, whose golden hair
Trailed on a forehead cold,
That glimmered through gold meshes, wet
With red life-jewels framed in jet;
And many a shaggy Afric curl
Touched red life-jewels framed in pearl;
And the same vail of moonlight glow
Swept sable cheek and throat of snow,
With its pale, silver fold.
Dark and fair, they slumbered there—
Young face serene and pure as prayer,
Where death could not eclipse
The beauty that more radiant beamed
Because its white enchantment seemed
New England boy, whose golden hair
Trailed on a forehead cold,
That glimmered through gold meshes, wet
With red life-jewels framed in jet;
And many a shaggy Afric curl
Touched red life-jewels framed in pearl;
And the same vail of moonlight glow
Swept sable cheek and throat of snow,
With its pale, silver fold.
Dark and fair, they slumbered there—
Young face serene and pure as prayer,
Where death could not eclipse
The beauty that more radiant beamed
Because its white enchantment seemed
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