to the memory of a young lady.
63
TO THE MEMORY OF A YOUNG LADY.
Farewell! sweet friend, farewell!
Thine eye hath lost its light since last we met,
And on thy brow death's icy seal is set.
Our mingling voices swell
A mournful requiem o'er thy early tomb,
Thou called to share its deep, unbroken gloom.
Thine eye hath lost its light since last we met,
And on thy brow death's icy seal is set.
Our mingling voices swell
A mournful requiem o'er thy early tomb,
Thou called to share its deep, unbroken gloom.
Yes! it is well to weep.
The lost! the lovely,—claims not she a tear,
Whose smile was sunshine while it lingered here?
Above thy dreamless sleep
Shall not the heart its gushing fountains shed,
Thou summoned hence, death's silent way to tread?
The lost! the lovely,—claims not she a tear,
Whose smile was sunshine while it lingered here?
Above thy dreamless sleep
Shall not the heart its gushing fountains shed,
Thou summoned hence, death's silent way to tread?
But not in fear, unblest,
Through its dark chambers didst thou take thy way:
God's gracious presence was the beaming ray
That led thee to thy rest.
One glorious guerdon fixed thy fearless eye,
The Christian's rest beyond the o'er-arching sky.
Through its dark chambers didst thou take thy way:
God's gracious presence was the beaming ray
That led thee to thy rest.
One glorious guerdon fixed thy fearless eye,
The Christian's rest beyond the o'er-arching sky.
Shall we bewail thy doom?
We the lone wanderers on time's wave-washed strand,
And thou, blest dweller mid the promised land?
Ours is the lot of gloom:
O'er us thy tears of pity should be shed,
If they can weep the heavenly shores who tread.
We the lone wanderers on time's wave-washed strand,
And thou, blest dweller mid the promised land?
Ours is the lot of gloom:
O'er us thy tears of pity should be shed,
If they can weep the heavenly shores who tread.
