Lines, Written on the Death of Frank
For their darling boy they weep,
For their beautiful and bright,
Who sweetly fell asleep,
One mild, autumnal night,
And the wind his requiem sang,
As his spirit passed away,
From this world of toil and pain,
To the realms of endless day.
They bore him to the grave,
To his long and silent home,
Where the trees in summer wave.
And the birds and blossoms
come;
Where the sunlight faintly creeps,
And the autumn breezes moan,
There the loved one softly sleeps,
In his chamber dark and lone.
Now vacant is the chair,
At the table and the hearth,
They miss him everywhere,
With the voice of joy and
mirth.
They seek for him in vain,
In the chamber where he lay,
Through weary months of pain,
Wasting slowly, day by day.
He sweetly fell asleep,
As an infant sinks to rest,
When sunlight shadows creep.
Along the rosy west.
Gently as falls the rose,
Fanned by the zephyr’s
breath,
So his eyelids softly closed,
In the quiet sleep of death.
He has gone to his rest;
Oh! weep not for the dead,
For the loved and the lost
Let no bitter tears be shed.
We trust that he has gone.
With the glorified to dwell,
And say, “God’s will be done
He doeth all things well.”