Why are the young and beautiful
Call’d so early to the tomb?
Death surely loves a shining mark,
And sweetly feeds on youthful bloom!

Go, wander in the place of graves,
When softly steals the autumn’s sigh,
And on the sculptured marble read,
How many in life’s morning die.

Beauty may bloom upon the cheek,
And brightly sparkle in the eye;
But soon the fatal hectic streak
Proclaims that stealthy Death is nigh.

Maria, by her mother’s side,
So young, in Death’s dark chambers laid,
And Lottie, soon to be a bride,
Have seen earth’s fairest vision fade.

A lovely vision floating fair,
In Memory’s chambers now is seen,
With sparkling eyes and glossy hair,
A radiant brow, and gentle mien.

She stole by fond and winning ways,
Into many a loving heart;
And with a sweet and childish grace,
Well performed her little part.

But death soon laid her beauty low,
Like spring flowers fading on the stem,
And, blighting all her youthful bloom,
Laid Clara, mould’ring now with them.

Dear Willie too, that child of prayer,
So suddenly has pass’d away,
And enter’d those bless’d mansions where
All is bright, eternal day.

Here, many a loving name is found,
Of those who in life’s pathway trod;
Who slumber now, beneath the mound,
Their spirits summon’d to their God.

Some by long disease confin’d,
Have slowly wasted day by day;
Health, strength and beauty all declin’d,
And Youth’s bright visions pass’d away.

But wander on; the sculptured stone
In thunder tones is speaking here;
The name the age it loudly tells,
To eye and heart, if not the ear.

They sleep when winter’s winds are loud,
And snow and sleet come drifting by;
And when light sails the rosy cloud,
And Spring’s sweet gales around them sigh.

They sleep ah, yes that dreamless sleep,
That never shall know waking more;
They’ve cross’d the icy steam of death,
And pass’d unto the viewless shore.