Classic Poem

Another lesson, oh, gentle flowers,
Ye bring to the heart that grieves,
A word of love from our loved and lost
Is written upon your leaves.

A written word from the saintly hands
That have gone to their holy rest,
With the frosts of winter upon their heads,
But summer within the breast.

They pass away as the isles of light
Go down from the purple west,
And their setting splendor is rare and bright
With the glory of the blest.

They fail as the dark'ning year departs,
They fade with the autumn flowers;
And the hand of Time, that stills their hearts,
Falls heavily on ours.

We take, as the warrior takes in strife,
The rank of those who die;
And we keep their watch in the war of life,
And we send their prayer on high,

For courage to walk in the ways of truth,
And the strength to keep at last,
'Mid the frosts of winter the bloom of youth
And the fragrance of the past.