And shuddered as I cast a look upon thy fainting

head;

The mournful cloud was gathering there, and life was almost fled.

Days passed; and soon the seal of death made known that hope was vain ;

I knew the swiftly wasting lamp would never burn

again;

The cheek was pale; the snowy lips were gently thrown apart;

And life in every passing breath seemed gushing from the heart.

I knew those marble lips to mine should never more be pressed,

And floods of feeling, undefined, rolled wildly o'er my breast;

Low, stifled sounds, and dusky forms, seemed moving in the gloom,

As if Death's dark array were come to bear thee

to the tomb.

And when I could not keep the tear from gathering in my eye,

Thy little hand pressed gently mine, in token of

reply;

To ask one more exchange of love, thy look was upward cast,

And in that long and burning kiss thy happy spirit passed!

I never trusted to have lived to bid farewell to

thee,

And almost said, in agony, it ought not so to

be;

I hoped that thou within the grave my weary head shouldst lay,

And live, beloved, when I was gone, for many a happy day.

With trembling hand I vainly tried thy dying eyes to close,

And almost envied, in that hour, thy calm and deep repose;

For I was left in loneliness, with pain and grief

oppressed,

And thou wast with the sainted, where the weary

are at rest.

Yes! I am sad and weary now; but let me not

repine

Because a spirit, loved so well, is earlier blest than mine;

My path may darken as it will, I shall not much

deplore,

Since thou art where the ills of life can never reach thee more.

Look on your loved one,

and embrace him now,

In still and solemn trust!

Come near! once more let kindred lips be

pressed

On his cold cheek; then bear him to his rest!

Look yet on this young face!

What shall the beauty, from amongst us gone,
Leave of its image, e'en where most it shone,
Gladdening its hearth and race?

Dim grows the semblance on man's heart impressed ;

Come near,

and bear the beautiful to rest!

Ye weep, and it is well;

For tears befit earth's partings. Yesterday
Song was upon the lips of this pale clay,

And sunshine seemed to dwell

Where'er he moved,

blessed;

Come near,

the welcome and the

and bear ye the beloved to rest!

How may the mother's heart

Dwell on her son, and dare to hope again?

The spring's rich promise hath been given in vain,

The lovely must depart.

Is he not gone, our brightest and our best?
Come near, and bear the early called to rest!

Look yet on him, whose eye

Meets yours no more, in sadness or in mirth!
Was he not fair amidst the sons of earth,

The beings born to die?

But not where death has power may love be

blessed;

Come near,

and bear the silent unto rest!