Classic Poem

Hark ! from afar the solemn Bell,
In mournful sounds salutes the ear;
And tells that, freed from earthly care,
Some Spirit quits its mortal cell,
In happier Realms to dwell.

Again it sounds; and to the heart,
Perchance of some sad weeping friend,
Lamenting Youth's untimely end,
Conveys the agonizing smart
Of Sorrow's venom'd dart!

Some Widow weeps the husband gone;
And, with the eloquence of Grief,
Implores from Heav'nly pow'r relief:
While round, with many a heart-felt groan,
The helpless Orphans moan.

Some Parent with a bursting eye,
Laments her darling offspring's breath,
Stopp'd by the cruel hand of Death;
And heaves the unavailing sigh,
And bids adieu to Joy.

Perhaps some faithful Lover, tor'n
By that " inexorable Lord, "
From the dear Fair his soul ador'd,
Condemns the gentle Maid to mourn,
And beat her Breast forlorn! —

But listen to th' instructive sound,
All ye of Sorrow's silent train;
And listen to it all ye Vain,
Ye who in thoughtless mirth abound,
And dance Life's giddy round!

To you, to all it speaks, to tell
That not in Grief, but sacred Joy,
We should our erring thoughts employ,
For those who quit this Mortal cell,
In happier Realms to dwell.