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A BURIAL AT SEA. |
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My brother! hast thou fled ? Thou gentle playmate of my infant years, Sweet sharer of my earliest hopes and fears,
0, art thou with the dead ?
It cannot, cannot be! I see thee as in health; thy look, thy voice— That cheerful smile, that made the heart rejoice,
Is fix'd in memory.
But deeper graven there Is the submission deep, the holy calm That o'er those fading features shed a charm,
Serene, divinely fair.
0, sad and dismal day The day I wept above thy dying bed; The day I saw thee mimber'd with the dead ;
Its hours moved mournfully.
Another day shall come, When I, like thee, shall lay me down to rest, When I shall meet thee, with the pure and blest,
In that immortal home.
1841.
A BURIAL AT SEA.
Night lay upon the stormy seas, Where that lone vessel stood
With banner flung upon the bree2e, Above the ocean flood. |
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