Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/98



will not see him more. You whose young thoughts Blent with his image, who to manhood grew Beneath the shelter of his saintly shade, Bringing your tender infants to his hand For the baptismal water, and lived on Amid his teachings, till the silver hairs Came all unlook'd for, stealing o'er your brow, You will not see him more. There was a place Where, duly as the day of God return'd, His solemn voice held converse with the skies For you and yours, till more than fourscore years Swept in deep billows o'er him. You will hear That voice no more. There stands his ancient house, Where, with the partner of his heart, he shared Affection's joys so long, and fondly mark'd His children and his children's children rise Clustering around his board. Remember ye His cordial welcome? how he freely dealt A patriarch's wisdom, in monitions kind To all who sought him? how, with hallow'd grace Of bounteous hospitality, he gave Example of those virtues, pure and sweet,