Well may the throngs in countless numbers weep, Bereft of such a great and noble man, For brilliant was the course of life he ran, But now he lies in everlasting sleep. He lived a life exempt from selfish pride; He never turned a stranger from his door; He ne’er refused to aid the needful poor; He proved to youth a never-failing guide. Alas! we mourn, with aching in our breast And eyelids moistened with the burning tear, The loss of one, so generous and sincere, Now silent in his sweet and peaceful rest. _A REVERIE._ O glad shall I be when the winter is ended, When the wild sweeping blasts of the season are gone, When the last flakes of snow to the ground have descended, And the drifts have all vanished from meadow and lawn. O glad shall I be when these cold days are over, And the bright joys of summer are with us again; When the meadows are blooming with sweet-scented clover, And the warm sun is smiling on new fields of grain. O glad shall I be, when as free as the air The birds are all singing their merriest lay, To remind me of days when I knew naught of care, And the seasons all seemed like a long summer day. O spring! merry spring! with thy fragrance of flowers, To thee from my sorrows I longingly turn;-- I’ll forget the drear scenes of these long winter hours, And dream of thy blessings and happy return. [Illustration] _OPPORTUNITY._ Time is ever swiftly fleeting, Unimproved by scores of men; Opportunities are passing That we’ll never have again; Many things we may accomplish, As the hours go speeding on, If we but improve each moment, Ere the precious time is gone. There are many hearts about us, That a loving word might cheer; There are many dear ones with us, That ere long may not be here: Let us then be wise and thoughtful, As our course we journey on, Striving for the good of others Ere the precious time is gone. _LINES_ Written on hearing a gentleman remark: “God bless dear woman.” “God bless dear woman!” did I hear you say? Full many a man might wisely thus remark! How oft her smiles have cheered man’s troubled way, And comfort brought when fortune’s sky was dark-- The vine that clings unto the oak, whose bark Is coarse and rough and void of pleasing grace; And like a dove within the cheerless Ark, Mid life’s drear scenes we see her sweetly face, And in God’s best design, there love and beauty trace! _MY LADY FAIR._ When aged winter, fierce and grim, Had ceased his surly reign, And virgin spring again adorned The forest, field and plain; One morning when the sun was bright And music filled the air, I wandered o’er the meadow sweet Beside my lady fair!