Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/34

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have prest the valve of the vaulted tomb, And the tremulous sun-beam falls Like a stranger's foot on that cheerless gloom, And the dead in their silent halls.

Hark! to the knell of a funeral train, As on with a measured tread, They shuddering plunge to the dark domain Of the unsaluting dead.

They have brought an innocent infant here To the charge of its kindred race, But no arm is stretched from their coffins drear To fold it in fond embrace.

It hath come from a mother's tender breast, She did foster it night and day, What a fearful change to such cherished guest Is this grim and cold array.

Her heart for a double woe doth weep, As it heaves with a stifled moan, For her first-born lies in his dreamless sleep 'Neath yon dark-browed arch of stone.

He fell when the wintry tempest wrecked The wealth of the verdant plain;— And lo! ere the spring hath its ravage decked, As a mourner she cometh again.