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| OH, weep not for the dead. Alas! how weak | |
| The solemn call to dry our tear-dimmed eyes, | |
| Or stay the drops which aching hearts bespeak, | |
| While hopeless grief in fruitless effort tries | |
| To scan the misty, drear and sombre space, | 5 |
| Which parts us from the presence that we love, | |
| And from those beaming eyes and saintly face | |
| And lips that taught the way to realms above. | |
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| Strong, manly mind to gentle heart allied, | |
| Fit partners of a noble soul that rose | 10 |
| To dutys highest calls, though sorely tried, | |
| Scorning the urgent temptings of repose; | |
| To him the heart of Childhood bounded forth, | |
| And feeble Age forgot the weight of years, | |
| And Youth reflected back the genial mirth, | 15 |
| Which turned to rippling joy their sight and tears. | |
| |
| Say when the bugle call of noble Cause, | |
| Drew forth the lightning flashes from his eye; | |
| In Gods own work he knew not rest nor pause, | |
| And Faith and Mercy made his pulses fly, | 20 |
| Nor recked he, when a knightly lance he broke | |
| In chivalrous tilt for Progress and for Good, | |
| Though in the clang of strife he felt the stroke, | |
| Yet calm and strong and nobly dumb he stood. | |
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| Too soon, alas! did Time with heavy hand | 25 |
| Lay on his head his chaste prophetic snow, | |
| And beckon to the far-off promised land, | |
| The goal to reach with weary steps and slow, | |
| With brave and dauntless heart he nobly strode | |
| Along the path of duty, cheery, bright, | 30 |
| And uncomplaining bore his heavy load, | |
| Till summoned out of darkness into light. | |
| |
| Though Earth our gentle Mother in her arms | |
| Benignly folds thee in thy peaceful sleep, | |
| And in her strong and all-embracing heart | 35 |
| The mortal fabric of thy frame doth keep, | |
| Freed from the chains that bound thy earthly love, | |
| Thy spirit joins the Choir of Saints above, | |
| Whose joyous voices calling, welcome thee, | |
| An Angel of the Lord of Hosts is he. | 40 |
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