Classic Poem

They 've finished the darksome abode,
Of silence, of death, and of dust!
And who, of the train that are thronging the road
To this mansion, shall enter it first?

It is not the silvery head,
That here shall be first to repose;
Nor the babe, that shall come to the house of the dead,
Ere the bud of its life can unclose.

But mark him, whose cheek is so bright
With the freshness of beauty and youth —
Whose step is so firm, and whose bosom so light
With the glow of affection and truth!

Ere care has o' ershadowed his brow,
With the roses of health all in bloom,
From the many, who love him, he comes even now;
For he is the first for the tomb!

And shall he, who could carry the charm
Of joy wheresoe'er he was known —
Shall he, with affections so kindly and warm,
Come down and repose here alone?

Oh! no — from the sorrowing train
There hastens a beautiful maid —
Ere the moon shall be full in her lustre again,
Her form by his side will be laid!

The kindred in blood, far from sight,
Together shall slumber in peace;
The kindred in spirit their voices unite
In praises, that never shall cease.

They would not their friends should bewail
Their absence from scenes they have trod!
They beckon the mourner to look through the veil,
Where they shine with the brightness of God!

They 've finished the darksome abode,
Of silence, of death, and of dust!
And who, of the train that are thronging the road
To this mansion, shall enter it first?

It is not the silvery head,
That here shall be first to repose;
Nor the babe, that shall come to the house of the dead,
Ere the bud of its life can unclose.

But mark him, whose cheek is so bright
With the freshness of beauty and youth —
Whose step is so firm, and whose bosom so light
With the glow of affection and truth!

Ere care has o' ershadowed his brow,
With the roses of health all in bloom,
From the many, who love him, he comes even now;
For he is the first for the tomb!

And shall he, who could carry the charm
Of joy wheresoe'er he was known —
Shall he, with affections so kindly and warm,
Come down and repose here alone?

Oh! no — from the sorrowing train
There hastens a beautiful maid —
Ere the moon shall be full in her lustre again,
Her form by his side will be laid!

The kindred in blood, far from sight,
Together shall slumber in peace;
The kindred in spirit their voices unite
In praises, that never shall cease.

They would not their friends should bewail
Their absence from scenes they have trod!
They beckon the mourner to look through the veil,
Where they shine with the brightness of God!