Poems (Hooper)/In Memory of H. A. C.

by Lucy Hamilton Hooper

IN MEMORY OF H. A. C.

O autumn days of solemn light,
 And sunsets soft and tender!
A shadow on your glory rests,
 A darkness on your splendor;
For, 'neath your golden gleaming skies
 He lies in dreamless sleeping,
Whose praise we fain would speak to-day,
 Yet cannot speak for weeping.

Alas! the poet's skill is vain!
 Our feeble voices falter
As we approach with mournful hearts
 Death's consecrated altar.
There's better praise than rhymed dirge,
 In mournful measure vying—
The tears that rain above the turf
 'Neath which our lost is lying.

O deeply loved and early doomed!
 O young, unconscious teacher!
By thy pure life and hero death
 How eloquent a preacher!
Vain were your countless gifts, O Earth!
 To teach his heart repining
When on his fading life he saw
 The dawn of Heaven shining.

Unstained, he rendered up to God
 His life's unopened blossom;
Temptation's many-pointed darts
 Fell pointless from his bosom.
All gifts this world of ours hath
 To his young life were given,
Till God on that pure heart bestowed
 His last, best blessing—Heaven.

Take him, O Earth! No nobler heart
 Lies cold within thy grasping.
Take him, O Heaven! Never soul
 More stainless sought thy clasping
Than his, who, when life's light grew dim
 And death's dark shades were falling,
Had messages for countless friends,
 No enemies recalling.

O Mother! bowed beneath this grief,
 The first your boy e'er gave you,
Vain is your tearful sympathy
 From one wild pang to save you!
Look up to God. His hand one day
 That loved one shall restore you,
Whose dying words were, "It is best
 That I should die before you."