The Tombstone Epitaph

To the Memory of the Deceased M. R. Peel.

By assassin hand struck down; His young life taken
Just as his manhood's dawn Was brightly breaking.
O warning word had he. No timely token,
No chance to fight or flee, The death was spoken.
Like thunderbolt from skies Calm and serene,
In doom upon him fell Unthought, unseen.
The busy day had closed: The restful eve,
When minds and limbs repose. Brought sweet reprieve.
He sat in idle mood, A face portraying,
Whilst crept the murderous brood Intent on slaying,
Up to the very door And flung it wide,
And in a moment more Young Peel had died.
The anguish of his thought Ob, who can tell,
Which that half moment brought Prelude to the death knell.
Young life, to brave and strong, So quickly quenched,
Who could have done this wrong, Whose hands are drenched,
With thy life blood, That has for vengeance called
Up to an angry God, Whilst Justice stands appalled,
And Arizona's face, From east to west,
Is but the resting place For murdered men, at best,
And shall it longer be That we shall idle stand
While murderers roaming free Shall desolate the land,
'Tis time the good and brave Arise in strength and might
And on this comrade's grave Their vows of vengeance plight.

DELLMATIA.
TOMBSTONE, March 29, 1882.