Classic Poem

When the dead in their cold graves are lying
Asleep, to wake never again!
When, past are their smiles and their sighing,
Oh! why should their memories remain?

Though sunshine, and spring may have lightened
The wild-flowers that blow on their graves,
Though summer their tombstones have brightened
And Autumn have pall'd them with leaves;

Though winter have wildly bewail'd them,
With her dirge-wind, as sad as a knell;
Though the shroud of her snow-wreath have veiled them,
Still—how deep in our bosoms they dwell!

The shadow, and sun-sparkle vanish;
The cloud, and the light fleet away,
But man, from his heart may not banish
Ev'n thoughts that are torment to stay.

The reflection departs from the river,
When the tree that hung o'er is cut down
But on Memory's calm current for ever
The shade, without substance is thrown.

When, quench'd is the glow of the ember,
When the life-fire ceases to burn,
Oh! why should the spirit remember?
Oh! why should the parted return?

Because, that the fire is still shining,
Because, that the lamp is still bright,
While the body, in dust is reclining,
The soul, lives in glory and light.