But there are those who deeply mourn,
His wife and children weep,
Their greatest grief must now be borne,
Their hearts are wounded deep.
That sudden, cruel, bolt came down,
And blasted all their hope,
But they have many friends in town,
Who’ll with their trouble cope.
Rally, good friends, to their relief,
And all take active part,
Wash out all color of their grief,
And mend each broken heart.
PART IV.
POEMS OF DESCRIPTION
WHERE THE WIND BLOWS.
Over the mountain top,
And thru the valley deep,
Waving the farmer’s crop,
Lulling the birds to sleep.
Over the ocean wide,
Making the billows roll,
Without a compass guide,
Sweeping from pole to pole.