Written on the Death of Lorenzo D. Upham.
Lamented youth, thy spirit now has fled,
Thy youthful form in earth's cold bosom lies.
Why art thou numbered with the early dead?
Who would not weep when one so lovely dies?
Why wert thou thus cut down in manhood's bloom,
When life to thee was all a summer's day,
Consigned unto the dark and silent tomb,
Nought but a lump of cold and lifeless clay?
And oft the mourner there doth go and weep,
And youthful friends shed many a bitter tear
For him who lies in his last, dreamless sleep,
For him they loved and ever held most dear.
We miss thee, brother, in our youthful band,
Thy words of love, thy gentle accents sweet;
But thou hast left us in this dreary land,
No more shall we thy social presence greet.
Thou wast a noble youth, the younger son,
Thy father's hope and solace in his years;
But short thy stay; ah! soon life's labor done,
Soon thou hast left a weary vale of tears.
Yes; thou hast left a world of care and toil,
Where storms and tempests o'er our pathway rise,
Calmly to sleep beneath the verdant soil,
Till called triumphant to the upper skies.
Then rest thee, brother, free from all thy pain,
Above thee bloom the rose and violet fair.
We would not wish thee back to earth again,
But let thee calmly, sweetly, slumber there.
To M. D. B. On the present of a pen.
Dear sister, words cannot express
To you my heartfelt thankfulness;
Or with what pleasure I behold
This precious gift--a pen of gold.
I prize it more, while now I see
In it remembrance kind of me;
Which fills me with delight untold
In viewing my new pen of gold.
And thee, at morn and evening tide,
As past the fleeting moments glide,
Shall I remember, while I hold
Within my grasp this pen of gold.
With newer zeal I now would write,
Dispensing nought but truth and light;
And richer treasures fain unfold,
The products of my pen of gold.
And when our weary task is done,
The conflict o'er, the victory won,
May we be found of finest mold,
As tried, refined, and pure as gold.
Be Cheerful.
Be cheerful! Be cheerful!
At the breaking of morn,
When the sun's gladd'ning rays
The earth shall adorn;
Be cheerful when noon
Shall its brightness display.
Be cheerful when eve
Ends the toil of the day,
For all nature is cheering
With harmonious voice;
All nature is bidding
Be glad and rejoice.
Be cheerful! Be cheerful!
Whatever thy lot!
If trouble awaits thee,
Thy woes are forgot.
Be cheerful, and light
Thy path shall surround;
With cheerfulness let
Every moment be crowned,
For all nature is cheering
With harmonious voice,
All nature is bidding
Be glad and rejoice.
Be cheerful! Be cheerful!
Let not the few days
That we spend on this earth
Be void of its lays.
Oft the ills we endure,
From the future we borrow;
Then be cheerful to-day--
Think not of the morrow;
For all nature is cheering
With harmonious voice,
All nature is bidding
Be glad and rejoice.
Be cheerful! Be cheerful!
In life's joyful spring,
When summer its beauties
And glories shall bring.
Be cheerful when autumn
Shall mantle in gloom,
When the winter of age
Brings near to the tomb;
For all nature is cheering
With harmonious voice,
All nature is bidding
Be glad and rejoice.
The Sister's Devotion.
There is no flower, brother, howe'er so sweetly blooming,
But it will fade in night;
No sunny sky with beams so bright illuming,
But clouds may shade its light,
But oh! there is a sister's love,
In sorrow's night unfading,
That clouds of earthborn care or woe
Ne'er will its light be shading.
Chorus:
Oh! brother, then prize a sister's devotion,
Ever pure, unchanging, sincere,
Whose heart for thee beats with tender emotion,
And shareth each smile and each tear.
The beaming eye, brother, lit bright with smiles enwreathing,
Tears may unbidden dim,
The soul of music's melody, sweet breathing,
Discordant strains may hymn.
But oh! there is a sister's voice
To cheer with kind words spoken;
Her hand may wake sweet strains again
From harp-strings that were broken.