New love with those sweet accents came.
Soon did this bud of promise bloom,
But oh, it blossomed for the tomb!—
Each art, which thy fond care has tried,
The fell destroyer's power defied.
And brothers, ye, too, weeping stand—
Pale death has robbed your household band
Well may stern manhood melt in tears,
The playmate of your early years
Before you lies in death's cold sleep—