Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/134

134  Of rich experience, or some timid child In tender meekness deck thy pencil'd vase. And as the Gleaner from the fruitful fields Of Boaz, gathering where the reapers strew'd, Came to her Mother at the close of day With welcome store and brightly glowing smile, So bring thy gifts to Memory's treasure-shrine.

 

o'er. The bolt that rends the sky And rives the lordly tree, Doth scarcely work so strange a deed As Death hath done for thee: And so we lay thee in the tomb, Son of a patriot line, Let not majestic manhood boast Who sees a grave like thine.

And She is there, that honor'd form O'er whom thy filial care, Did shed such hallow'd charm as made Life's lonely winter fair; That mother mourns, whose hand so oft Within this funeral shade, Hath with a meek, unchanging trust Her cherish'd idols laid. 