Classic Poem

Most peacefully she passed through life, most gently did she die,
Unquelled the music of her voice, unquenched her beaming eye;
Years had not reft a single charm that won us to her side,
Nor hushed a single tone of love to which our hearts replied;
Time had but left a lovelier light upon her honored head,
The grace that marked her early years still beautified the dead.

Oh! tears are not for those who leave this bleak world for the blest,
Not for the servants of the Lord who from their labors rest,
Not for the loved departed, in Life's glad summer gone—
But for the broken-hearted, who tread the world alone—
And not for thee who all the paths of righteousness hath trod,
And now, when full of honored years art gathered up to God.

The prints of lingering feet that tread around her lowly tomb,
And scattered flowers that o'er it shed their beauty and perfume,
The sadness of the lip and eye whene'er her name is heard,
And memory wakes her thousand thoughts at that familiar word,
All tell that with the fading light of her unmeasured worth—
A beauty and a holiness have passed away from earth.