 | Poems by William W. Story |  |
273
DIRGE.
Bear him gently to his tomb,
Scatter roses on his bier,
Pure in heart, in vernal bloom,
He hath vanished from us here.
Scatter roses on his bier,
Pure in heart, in vernal bloom,
He hath vanished from us here.
Hushed and low be every strain,
Even-tempered be our grief,
Who could wish him back again,
Even though his life were brief.
Even-tempered be our grief,
Who could wish him back again,
Even though his life were brief.
He hath vanished from the shroud,
Off the body we must bear,
Like the lightning from the cloud,
Like a song into the air.
Off the body we must bear,
Like the lightning from the cloud,
Like a song into the air.
| Poems by William W. Story | |