WE LAID HER DOWN TO REST.
———
BY C. C. BUTLER.
———
The summer winds were lightly strung,
The golden eve drew near,
The gentle zephyrs sweetly sung,
To call from us a tear;
Oh! sadly sweet that mournful strain
That called her to the blest,
As ’neath the green and fertile plain
We laid her down to rest.
The smile of love that rested there
Upon her blooming cheek,
Doth shine in that bright world of prayer,
Where angels only speak.
We look to see that face in vain—
That gentle heaving breast—
But ’neath the green and fertile plain
We laid her down to rest.
That gentle voice is hushed in death—
She closed her weary eyes—
While angels watched the parting breath,
And took her to the skies.
Yes! Death, to break the golden chain,
Appeared a welcome guest—
And ’neath the green and fertile plain
We laid her down to rest.
THE PEDANT:
OR CHAPTERS FROM A LIFE SPENT PARTLY IN CAROLINA.
———
BY HENRY HOLM, ESQ.
———
(Concluded from page 167.)