the loss of the steamer lexington.
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Morn broke in glory where the sun had set
In peace. That gallant bark, which proudly trod
Her onward path, and seemed to set at nought
The strength of man, and almost to repel,
In scorn, the arm of the Omnipotent,
Where had it vanished, with its wealth of mind?
Had the pure breeze of heaven, with gentle breath,
Borne it in triumph to its destined port?
Had heart met heart in bliss, around that shrine
Made sacred by the hallowing name of home?
In peace. That gallant bark, which proudly trod
Her onward path, and seemed to set at nought
The strength of man, and almost to repel,
In scorn, the arm of the Omnipotent,
Where had it vanished, with its wealth of mind?
Had the pure breeze of heaven, with gentle breath,
Borne it in triumph to its destined port?
Had heart met heart in bliss, around that shrine
Made sacred by the hallowing name of home?
Not such the dark reality; but grief
Imprints no trace upon the treacherous wave,
Nor leaves its record on. the sea-washed sand.
Else might a pen of living flame have stamped,
Deeply, indelibly, its impress there.
What precious hopes were blighted, what sweet dreams
Were to the hours: of waking anguish changed,
When goodness, beauty, youth and age were borne.
Trophies to gem the silent halls of death!
Thither the pride of manhood, and the grace
Of matron beauty, and the uncounted wealth
Garnered within a mother's love, went down.
The eagle glance of youth, the fearless eye
Of childhood's holy confidence are closed
In that hushed sleep which knows no waking hour,
Save in the clime where death is all unknown.
Imprints no trace upon the treacherous wave,
Nor leaves its record on. the sea-washed sand.
Else might a pen of living flame have stamped,
Deeply, indelibly, its impress there.
What precious hopes were blighted, what sweet dreams
Were to the hours: of waking anguish changed,
When goodness, beauty, youth and age were borne.
Trophies to gem the silent halls of death!
Thither the pride of manhood, and the grace
Of matron beauty, and the uncounted wealth
Garnered within a mother's love, went down.
The eagle glance of youth, the fearless eye
Of childhood's holy confidence are closed
In that hushed sleep which knows no waking hour,
Save in the clime where death is all unknown.
And thou, O-man of God! what yearning thoughts
Cluster around thy lowly ocean-grave!
What fervor of devotion, what sublime
And spirit-stirring powers of mind were thine!
Thy voice, as though an angel's harp had lent
Cluster around thy lowly ocean-grave!
What fervor of devotion, what sublime
And spirit-stirring powers of mind were thine!
Thy voice, as though an angel's harp had lent
