But as I heard these reapers sing, Thought not Death’s reaper would bring To me sorrow so soon; Thought not he would come and remove The one dearest object of love, The earth’s greatest boon, From my presence away. Hallowed shall be that day, In memory alway Most dear unto me; p. 116For, though I did not see The angel of death near, She may have seen His sable garments peer From the long ranks of time, And heard his voice chime, “I shall come to bring thee Unto eternity.” Dead! dead! Oh! bid My trembling heart be still. It cannot brook this ill; This strange and burdened truth It cannot bear. The brightness of my youth It chills to hear. Ah me! and has she gone, Who in sickness watched me long, Smoothed my pillow, hushed the throng, And said To childhood’s fears, “Begone!” Who in error chid, And would gently bid A rising rage be still, Or check a stubborn will, In childhood seeming ill. p. 117I think I see her now (The smile upon her brow) Sit in the woody shade, Adown the rural glade, So full in song. And watch her fondled boy, With some much cherished toy, Run raptured long. Ah yes! too truly she hath gone. The vacant seat to fill There is none other, there is none To take her place. A mother lost Is ever most A home can bear. Can time never more That image restore? Has that voice gone to keep Its long silent sleep With the dead in the grave? She whom God hath said Should have reverence paid, Here on the earth, All of her birth, Called to give honor, Long life the donor, p. 118God hath said shall have. Dead, they all tell me. So strange, it doth seem Like a vision befel me— A wonderful dream, That I no more may breathe That name ever dear, Save in a mournful voice Hushed silent in fear. p. 116 p. 117 p. 118 THE FUNERAL. Now the old church bell Tolls forth its death knell, Mournfully to tell The hour has come at last, In heavy sadness past, To bury the dead, And in silence bid. Then the mourners go, All mournfully slow, Every heart beating low The march of the dead. All with soft and gentle tread Unto the sepulchre sped, And humbly bent every head, Bearing to her last home the dead, p. 119In all the obsequies due; Every follower, in presence true, Many a well-known neighbour view, Paying his last meet respect Unto her who has gone, And whose remembrance shone Bright in the memory of them. Now through the old town they pace— The good old familiar place, Where often in time before She, in life’s
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