 | Poems by George P. Morris |  |
211
IN MEMORY OF CHARLES H. SANDFORD.
He died, as he had lived, beloved,
Without an enemy on earth;
In word and deed he breathed and moved
The soul of honor and of worth:
His hand was open as the day,
His bearing high, his nature brave;
And, when from life he passed away,
Our hearts went with him to the grave.
Without an enemy on earth;
In word and deed he breathed and moved
The soul of honor and of worth:
His hand was open as the day,
His bearing high, his nature brave;
And, when from life he passed away,
Our hearts went with him to the grave.
What desolation filled our home
When death from us our treasure bore!—
Oh! for the better world to come
Where we shall meet to part no more!
The hope of that sustains us now,
In that we trust on bended knee,
While thus around his faded brow
We twine the wreath of memory.
When death from us our treasure bore!—
Oh! for the better world to come
Where we shall meet to part no more!
The hope of that sustains us now,
In that we trust on bended knee,
While thus around his faded brow
We twine the wreath of memory.
| Poems by George P. Morris | |