Stood near his darling sister’s dying bed,
And on his bosom held her drooping head.
But ah, sad thought! I have no brother now!
He too is number’d with the silent dead!
When the strong hand of death shall lay me low,
O, he will not be near, to wipe my cold damp brow!
V.
’Twas sad to see him when our sister died,
Struggling to bear his grief composedly;
For they had “grown together—side by side;”