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'Twas a dear, lamented brother—
Cease, fond heart, thy throbbing now'
Years have pass'd, since deep affection Shower'd its tears upon that brow.
Time, they say, is a sure healer;
Wherefore then do I repine ? Years have fled, since in my anguish,
Those cold lips were press'd to m'm»
Still affection's sacred fountain
Overflows with many a tear; Still that name, by some forgotten,
Wakes a thrilling echo here.
Theron! 0, how sweet the music Of that fondly-cherish'd name,
Though it may not shed its lustre On the glowing lists of fame!
Yet, on hearts that knew and prized him, That fond name is traced in love,
And recorded in the volume Of eternal life above.
Theron's was an ardent spirit, Theron's was a soul of flame;
Ever in its flight aspiring Towards the throne of the I AM.