Green Mountain Freeman

For the Freeman.

LINES.

Written on the occasion of the death of Mrs. L. W. Storrs.

Hark! on the night air comes a sound of wailing,
Falling with thrilling cadence on the ear,
All the deep sorrow of sad hearts unveiling,
The agony of those who watch in fear.

The morn dawns but, and its bright awaking
Frights not the messenger of Death away;
Stays not the angel, Hope, those hearts forsaking,
Lights in the sufferer's eye no healthful ray.

Oh! ye who bend in tears above her pillow,
Yearn not to keep the dear one from her rest,
The "stream of death" is calm; no angry billow
Threatens the Christian launching on its breast.

Softly the Conqueror comes—oh! hush your weeping!
Mark how the soul obeys its Master's will;
The eyelids close, as if in earthly sleeping,
Save only that the fluttering heart is still.

Fair tenement of clay, before us lying,
So like to what thou wert in blooming life,
What years of pain hast thou been spared in dying!
What bitter griefs, what hours of earthly strife!

We cannot know—but on thy lips reposing,
A placid smile speaks comfort 'mid our gloom;
A look of calm content, and peace, disclosing
How painless was thy passage to the tomb!

Rest now in peace—thine errors all forgiven,
Thy virtues, crowned with wreaths of living light,
Thy spirit standing in the halls of Heaven,
While Heavenly glories burst upon thy sight.

Anonymous.