Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/108

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I heard a stranger's hearse move heavily Along the pavement.—Its deep, gloomy pall No hand of kindred or of friend upbore. But from the cloud that veiled his western couch The lingering sun shed forth one transient ray, Like sad and tender farewell to some plant Which he had nourished.—On the giddy crowd Went dancing in their own enchanted maze, Drowning the echo of those tardy wheels Which hoarsely warn'd them of a time to die. I saw a sable train in sorrow bend Around a tomb.—There was a stifled sob, And now and then a pearly tear fell down Upon the tangled grass.—But then there came The damp clod harshly on the coffin-lid, Curdling the life-blood at the mourner's heart, While audibly it spake to every ear "There is a time to die." — And then it seem'd As if from every mound and sepulchre In that lone cemetery,—from the sward Where slept the span long infant,—to the grave Of him who dandled on his wearied knee Three generations,—from the turf that veil'd The wreck of mouldering beauty,—to the bed Where shrank the loathed beggar,—rose a cry From all those habitants of silence—"Yea!— There is a time to die."—