University of Virginia Library


103

ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.

1824.
Poor Tom! companion of my youth and bliss,
Sharer of all my early sports, my pleasure,
Long years gone by when all was happiness,
And we in union careless roved together.
Unsullied days! with thee for ever fled,
'Tis vain to hope that they will e'er return;
Now that eternal Sleep sits round thy head,
And leaves me o'er thy silent tomb to mourn.
O Death! not spare a mother's only son,
To gild the evening of her setting days;
Who yet had scarcely twice ten summers run,
And hardly felt the dawn of manhood's rays!

104

Now Memory, faithful to her pleasing task,
Makes the gay scenes of years long past appear;
Producing all my trusty friend would ask,
My humble verse and tributary tear.
Poor Tom! no more on earth thou'lt ever smile,
Or with thy presence cheer the lingering day;
No more the tedious winter's eve beguile,
Or hearken to whate'er thy friend might say.
No more shall we again outstretch the eye,
To admire the scenes that in far distance lay;
The rosy twilight of the varied sky,
The lingering beauties as they fade away.
In vain the woods may echo forth their song,
No more to their voice thou wilt lend an ear;
Nor by their side thy evening walk prolong,
To hear their inmates warbling sweetly clear.

105

In vain the moon may shed her solemn light,
No more shall we admire her silver beams,
No more shall walk to enjoy the calm still night;
No, fled for ever are those golden dreams.
In vain its sweetness may the woodbine give,
And all the flowers that the fields adorn;
The Lark and all the winged tribe that live,
With all the songsters that salute the morn.
Spring with its blest attendants' pleasing train,
Which glads all hearts, and makes all spirits flow,
All its enchanting scenes to thee are vain,
They will not reach thee in the tomb below.
The oak in winter leaves may cease to give,
Fields and woods then no longer please the eye;
Returning spring again may make them live,
But not alas! our friends, when once they die.

106

No more on life's unruly ocean driven,
In vain the wintry winds may rage and blow,
Thou art arrived in that smooth peaceful haven,
Free from the tempests that rise here below.
Farewell, my friend, companion, all that's dear,
Short is the time that's at the farthest given;
May I this life in strictest virtue steer,
And meet thee at the last in realms of heaven.