Jessamine Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Franklin, James Thomas (fl. 1890-1900)

Departed Spirit.

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Oh, Nathan! Nathan! where art thou,
Precious flower of truth,
What mighty hand has plucked thee from
Thy verdent stem of youth?

Oh tell me why that thou art gone,
And whither winged thy flight,
Putting the shining helmet down
'Mid the heated battle-fight?

Ah sure thou wert not weary,
Commander young and brave!
For leading souls was thy chief joy,
Oh! why then seek the grave?

O, mortal once, but spirit now,
Permit the muse to sing!
Thus pouring through my own sad heart,
Thy own true answer bring.

'Twas God, you say, Oh mighty God!
Who summoned you to him.
And left your habitation waste
To death grewsome and grim.

'Twas but the tottering mass of clay
That weak and weary grew,
Until at length the casement fell
And out the spirit flew.

And then, O, soul, not left adrift,
By God's eternal truth,
On rapid wings was wafted home
Just in the bloom of youth.

Speed on, O soul, to heaven's gate
And through its portals sweep,
Consign this empty mass of clay
To silence and to sleep.

'Tis but a dream of silent years
'Mid glorious scenes to stray,
When God himself will send the soul
To resurrect its clay.

Ah, then speed on ye noble soul!
Yes, noble brave and true,
I pledge to fight as you have fought
Till I have fallen too.

Tis but a span of life and years,
Then list my funeral knell.
Till then, dear Nathan, I must bid
To you a sad farewell.