The beings born to die?—
But not where death has power may love be bless’d.
Come near! and bear ye the beloved to rest!
How may the mother’s heart
Dwell on her son, and dare to hope again?
The spring’s rich promise hath been given in vain—
The lovely must depart!
Is he not gone, our brightest and our best?
Come near! and bear the early-call’d to rest!
Look on him! Is he laid