Poems (Eliza Gabriella Lewis)/To the memory of one of the Signers of the Independence
TO THE MEMORY OF ———
One of the Signers of the Independence, buried beneath Trinity Church.
Thou askest me of thy sire, my boy—thine ancient sire, whose hand
Assisted in the mighty work that freed this glorious land.
They laid him in the ground, with many a tear and prayer,
And the last of those that lov'd him, were gathered humbly there;
They wept not for the patriot—what recked they of a name?—
They knew that he had gone, and what to him was fame:
But in the solitude of home—as years crept slowly on,
And time, with healing wing, had soothed the grief now calmly borne,
The memory of those gallant men, and he, their aged sire,
Kindled anew within their hearts, his pure and holy fire.
Assisted in the mighty work that freed this glorious land.
They laid him in the ground, with many a tear and prayer,
And the last of those that lov'd him, were gathered humbly there;
They wept not for the patriot—what recked they of a name?—
They knew that he had gone, and what to him was fame:
But in the solitude of home—as years crept slowly on,
And time, with healing wing, had soothed the grief now calmly borne,
The memory of those gallant men, and he, their aged sire,
Kindled anew within their hearts, his pure and holy fire.
Thou asketh me, my boy "Where lie the ashes of the dead?
Raised not his country, for that deed, the marble o'er his head?"
Aye; e'en a monument of art—of sculpture rich and rare:
Oil I never hath the young eye gazed on ought so wondrous fair.
But, to the One Eternal is that holy structure reared,—
He, unto whom thy grand-sire bowed—the loved, and yet the feared;
And when thou bendeth on thy knee, and prayeth for God's grace,
Forget not him whose aged form lies 'neath that holy place.
Raised not his country, for that deed, the marble o'er his head?"
Aye; e'en a monument of art—of sculpture rich and rare:
Oil I never hath the young eye gazed on ought so wondrous fair.
But, to the One Eternal is that holy structure reared,—
He, unto whom thy grand-sire bowed—the loved, and yet the feared;
And when thou bendeth on thy knee, and prayeth for God's grace,
Forget not him whose aged form lies 'neath that holy place.