Classic Poem

So falls the last of the old forest trees,
Within whose shades we wandered with delight,
Moss-grown and hoary, yet the birds of Heaven
Loved in its boughs to linger and to sing.
The summer winds made sweetest music there;
The soft spring showers hung their brightest drops,
Glistering and cheerful on the mossy spray,
And to the last, that ancient, vigorous oak
Teemed with ripe fruitage.
Now the Masons mourn,
Through Temple chambers, their Grand Master fallen!
The clear Intelligence, — the genial Soul, —
The lips, replete with wisdom, — quenched and still.
The ruffian Death has met and struck his prey,
And from the Quarry to the Mount, all mourn!
Bind up with asphodel these mystic Tools
And Jewels of the Work; bind up, ye Crafts,
The S QUARE ; it marked the fullness of his life;
In truth's right angle all his deeds were true!
The L EVEL ; lo, it leads us to the grave,
Where, in kind mother earth our veteran sleeps!
The P LUMB ; it points the home his soul hath found;
Did he not walk true to th' unerring Line,
Let down, suggestive, from the hand of God?
Th' A CACIA S PRIG , type of the verdant life,
Bright and immortal in Celestial Lodge.

Bind up in mourning, dark and comfortless,
The G AUGE ; he gave one part to God, and God,
In blest exchange, gave him eternity .
The T ROWEL ; in his gentle charge it spread
Sweet Concord, binding long estranged hearts;
The H OUR G LASS , whence his vital sands have sped,
But every grain denoted one good deed;
The G AVEL ; in his master hand it swayed,
Through three score years, the Moral architects,
Quelling all strife, directing every hand,
And pointing us to the Great Builder, G OD !
Bind these with asphodel; conceal these Tools
And Jewels of the Work; let bitterest tears
Flow for the man who handled them so well,
But, overborne with death, hath, in ripe age,
His labor fully done, passed from our sight!