Alexandria Gazette & Advertiser

POETRY.

From Poulson's Daily Advertiser.

STANZAS
To the memory of one that has departed.

He fled to the land of the stranger,
To stay his parting breath—
But vain is the art of the ranger
To baffle the arrow of Death;
The shaft may awhile be evaded,
When the shield is before it cast,
But all by mortality shaded,
Must bow to the victor at last.

O! lost to the joyous promise
And hope of after days—
O! snatch'd in thy spring-time from us,
And quench'd in thy early blaze.—
When the bright'ning scenes around thee,
Had just open'd upon thy view—
Then the final summons found thee,
To bid them all adieu.

As the day of thy short probation,
Drew onward to its close,
The quiet of resignation,
Within thy mind arose;
At the order and will of Heaven
Thy wishes and hopes were laid;
And He who thy spirit had given,
To its home that mild spirit conveyed.

There are eyes that are red with weeping;
There are hearts that are aching for thee;
While in a far land thou art sleeping,
From trouble and frailty free.

Yes! many in sad retrospection,
Whilst year after year o'er them rolls,
Will keep with a fond recollection,
Thy "memory green in their souls."

And she, unto whom thou art dearer
Than aught in this world beside,
Who hoped coming days would cheer her,
When with thee she became a bride:

Oh! how are those hopes all broken
And hid in the depths of night,
For the word of the spoiler is spoken
And thy spirit has taken its flight.

Like the bird in her shady bower,
The mild and plaintive dove,
In the sad and the cheerful hour,
She reposed in the light of thy love:
But where shall the bird fix her station,
When the storms have her bower o'erthrown?
And where shall she find consolation,
When left to lament alone?

O! Thou! who in love wilt gather,
The lambs of thy flock to the fold;
Who wilt be to the orphan a Father,
Over whom the dark tempest have roll'd;
When the contrite and broken hearted,
In their sorrows bend the knee,
To them be thy spirit imparted;
Be their comfort a trust in thee!

O.