Classic Poem

Sounds of mirth and festal clang.
Through the lofty halls have sped
Till the answering echoes rang
From the vaults that hold the dead.
'Mid the joys to-night hath brought
Of your ancestors ye thought,
Singing glorious deeds of might
Rescued from the past's dim night.

Oft with scenes of festal cheer
Hath this ample chamber shone;
As the tree, when May draws near,
Puts its radiant blossoms on.
They that here, a joyous crew,
True love's ties more closely drew,
Now, alas! together prest,
In their sleeping-chamber rest.

Thither man with tempest-speed
Flies, and leaves life's rapid race;
In the hearts of friends, indeed,
Lingers he a little space.
Down the hall, in bronze and stone,
Stand long lines of heroes gone,
Powerless their eyes to move,
Speaking not sweet words of love.

No bright deed, for ever green,
Keeps thee from the vault's dim night;
None the thunder's path hath seen,
None the wings of Zephyrs light.
How to God you raised your look,
How your friend's dear hand you took,
How you gave love's kiss of fire,
All doth with your life expire.

Both the child who laughingly
Nestled 'neath his mother's arm,
And the grandsire who with glee
Clasped his grandson close and warm,
And the bride, with love possessed,
Hanging on the loved one's breast,
All a well-spent life have sealed;
Praise to all my song shall yield.