Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/188

182

———'Tis hard to lay into the earth A countenance so benign! a form that walk'd But yesterday so stately o'er the earth!

near!—ere yet the dust Soil the bright paleness of the settled brow, Look on your brother, and embrace him now, In still and solemn trust! Come near!—once more let kindred lips be press'd On his cold cheek; then bear him to his rest!

Look yet on this young face! What shall the beauty, from amongst us gone, Leave of its image, ev'n where most it shone, Gladdening its hearth and race?