Classic Poem

Hark, how the air resounds with death!
Lo, to the tomb a Mason comes!
But where is the badge the Mason hath —
Type of a life beyond the tombs?
Is there not one in all the band
Owns him a Brother now?
Speak, ye that weep around the bier,
And say where the honors were his due.

How he was loved these tear drops show —
How he was honored midst our band;
For he had a heart for every woe.
For each distress a liberal hand.
Bright in the East our rising sun,
Proud viewed we his career; —
But now that to-day his race is run,
We fling no Acacia on his bier.

Whispering low the cause we yield —
History of his unworthy death —
False honor called him to the field
And death the erring Brother met.
No dirge from us can o'er him swell,
No banners round him wave;
Emblem of faith we dare not strew
Upon the sad, self-murderer's grave.

Ceases the knell of sorrow now —
But long will the heavy sigh be drawn;
Vacant the East! ah, heavy woe!
Our Wisdom, Strength and Beauty gone;
But worst the grief this thought will bring
To our fraternal home —
Brightest and dearest, thou art passed,
Dishonored, to an early tomb!