Classic Poem

It was a chill, dreary day in November. The autumn winds swept with
a dirge-like sound through the tops of the tall old trees that
overshadowed a stately mansion, where a group of sorrowing friends
had collected, to pay the last sad rite, to one of earth's fairest,
loveliest flowers. All without wore an air of gloom and melancholy.
Ever and anon a sere and yellow leaf would fall with a faint rustling
sound, speaking in mournful language to the heart, that all things
earthly must decay; and well did the scene accord with the sadness and
sorrow that reigned in the hearts of those who had assembled on that
mournful occasion.

The deceased was one whom we had all known and loved, for she was one
of those sweet angelic beings, whom it is impossible not to love. Her
presence, like sunshine, seemed to diffuse light and cheerfullness
upon all who came within the magic circle of her influence.

Her glad laugh fell like music upon the ear. Her large dark eyes
beamed with the light of intelligence and affection. The softest rose
tint tinged her alabaster cheek, and the tones of her voice were like
the melody of an Aeolian harp, when touched by the wandering zephyrs.

But youth, beauty, and goodness could not shield her from the cruel
shafts of the destroyer. The hand of disease fell heavily upon her,
and her fragile form sank beneath the blow, and faded like a blighted
flower. There sat her parents bowed down by grief, for the being whom
they most loved on earth, the light of their home, the joy, the hope,
the pride of their hearts, had been taken from them, and they were
indeed left desolate.

One ray of light alone illumined the darkness that overshadowed them
like a pall. But one star shone out upon the dim horizon of the
future, the hope of being reunited with their beloved child in that
better land, where tears shall be wiped from all eyes--where love
never dies, and parting scenes are never known.

The funeral services were performed in a solemn and impressive manner.
The coffin was then opened, and one by one we approached to take the
last fond look of its frail tenant. Oh, could it be that that form, so
cold and motionless, clad in the white habiliments of the grave, was
that of the once lovely and fascinating Annie Howard? Were those lips
that were wont to entrance with their melody forever sealed in death?
Would those eyes never again beam with the light of affection, or
kindle with the glow of enthusiasm? Oh, how forcibly were we reminded
that "passing away" is written upon all things here below, and that
the fairest forms that walk the earth, in all the pride of beauty,
must go down to the dark, cold grave, to be food for the loathesome
worm. With slow and faltering steps, and with tear-suffused eyes,
we followed the remains to the narrow house, appointed for all the
living; and then mournfully returned to our homes, to muse upon the
uncertainty, and the perishable nature of all earthly joys.

Annie Howard was one of my earliest and dearest friends, and thinking
that, perhaps, her history might be interesting to some who may chance
to peruse these pages, I have endeavored, although but imperfectly, to
give a brief sketch of her life.

She was the only child of wealthy and highly respectable parents.
Possessed of refined and cultivated minds, they were anxious that
their daughter should be educated in all the more solid branches,
which would render her a useful member of society, as well as the
lighter graces and accomplishments which, too often, in the present
day, supercede the cultivation of the mind. Endowed with a brilliant
intellect, she excelled in whatever she attempted, and the fond
anticipations of her friends were more than realized. The acquirement
of literature was to her a source of exquisite delight. Her thirsty
soul drank at the fountain of knowledge, with as much avidity as the
weary traveller slakes his thirst at the fountain of cool waters, that
bubbles up in the midst of the sandy desert. Her inquiring mind was
never weary of exploring the deep mysteries of science or poring over
the pages of ancient lore. Music, painting and poetry seemed to form
the etherial essence of her mind. She played with exquisite skill and
taste, and sang with surpassing sweetness and melody.

Her brilliant powers of mind, the beauty of her person, her graceful,
winning manners, the sweetness of her disposition, and the unaffected
goodness of her heart, rendered her a universal favorite in the circle
in which she moved.

Yet, was she ever modest and unassuming. She was far from that
vain haughtiness that is the common characteristic of narrow and
superficial minds, and which, too often, displays itself in persons of
cultivated intellect, where there is not a corresponding goodness
of heart. It seemed to be her aim to render those with whom she
associated, pleased with themselves rather than to impress upon them
a sense of her own superiority. This trait in her character had in it
nothing allied to sycophancy, which quickly disgusts persons of sense
and refinement; neither did it originate merely in the desire to
please, but had its source in an inherent principle of her nature,
which prompted her to seek to promote the happiness of others.

She possessed an intuitive knowledge of human nature, which, together
with her extreme delicacy, with regard to the feelings of others,
formed the keystone which unlocked to her the secret recesses of
hearts, which, to a less careless observer, would have been veiled in
impenetrable coldness and reserve.

In early life she had given her heart to the Saviour, and had
consecrated herself to the service of God; and she sought to follow
the example of the meek and lowly Jesus.

The poor, the sick, and the sorrowful, were objects of her peculiar
care and attention. Many a poor, crushed and broken-hearted being,
borne down by poverty and affliction, was made glad by her sympathy
and kindness. She possessed that sweet, graceful way of offering a
benefit which rendered a favor from her doubly acceptable. Among the
gentlemen of her acquaintance, there were many who, fascinated by the
charms both of her mind and person, sought to win her heart, but of
all her numerous admirers, there was but one whose affection was
reciprocated, and that one was well worthy the love and confidence of
such a being as Annie Howard. He possessed those noble qualities of
heart and mind which command the admiration of the great and good, and
which render man, in the true sense of the term, the noblest work of
God. Gifted with strong powers of mind, which had been disciplined
by a thorough education, possessing principles of the strictest
integrity, and an elegant and prepossessing exterior, he was beloved
and esteemed by all who knew him. He was a physician, and had the
reputation of being a skilful practitioner. He had resided in the same
village with Annie some two or three years, and being of congenial
dispositions, and thrown much into each others' society, a strong
attachment had sprung up between them, which was sanctioned by the
friends of both parties.

But brilliant intellect, beauty of person, sweetness of disposition,
goodness of heart, nor love of friends could save her from death's
relentless dart. In her case, the words of the poet Wordsworth were
verrified,

"The good die first,
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket."

Ere nineteen summers had passed over her head, consumption had
fastened upon her vitals. At first the symptoms were so slight that
her friends felt little alarm, but soon the hollow cough, which sounds
so much like a funeral knell, the unnatural brilliancy of the eye, the
hectic glow upon the cheek, and the short, labored breathing, told but
too plainly that death was not to be cheated of his prey. It has been
said that death loves a shining mark, and it is true that he often
passes by the loathsome form, shriveled by age, and want, and
lingering disease, to feast upon the sparkling eye, the ruby lips, and
glowing cheek of youth and beauty.

Annie soon became fully sensible that she was not long for this world,
but was perfectly calm and resigned. She possessed that hope that
alone can sustain the soul in sickness and suffering, when we feel
that our hold upon earth is each day growing weaker, and eternity,
vast, boundless, with all its untried scenes, with all its deep
mysteries, and overwhelming interests, lies stretched out before us,
when the soul feels that it must soon be called upon to enter upon
those untried scenes, and to fathom the deep mysteries of that endless
existence, and that it must go alone and unattended into the presence
of its Maker, there to render up its account. She felt that, although
she was unworthy of God's favor, yet Christ had shed his blood for
her, and she trusted that her sins had been washed away by that blood,
and her soul made meet for the heavenly inheritance. She strove to
console the grief of her parents, who were almost heartbroken at the
thought of parting from their child. She pointed them to that home
beyond the grave, where they should be reunited never more to part;
never more to suffer pain, or sorrow, or care; where tears are wiped
from all eyes, and the ransomed spirit will be permitted to join with
the heavenly host in singing praises to the Redeemer.

She bore her sufferings with sweet resignation. As her bodily strength
failed her mind seemed to expand, and her intellectual powers to grow
higher. Her love of the beautiful seemed also to increase. The deep
blue sky, when studded by a countless host of brilliant stars; the
soft, fleecy clouds when reflecting the gorgeous hues of sunset; the
music of the birds; the whispering of the breeze, making mysterious
melody as it mingled with the rustling of the leaves; these, with a
thousand other sweet but incomprehensible charms of nature, seemed to
form the link that bound her soul to earth.

Gradually her strength failed; each day her fragile form became more
attenuated, and her thin hand more transparent. There was nothing
terrible in the approach of death. Nothing that was revolting to the
most sensitive mind; but when we were summoned to stand around her
dying bed, there was something so calm, so heavenly, so peaceful, in
the expression of her countenance, that we all felt that it was indeed
a privilege to witness the departure of her soul to the world of
spirits, and we involuntarily exclaimed, "Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his."