'Tis manly, then, for you to weep.
No more will little Walter share
Her love, her counsel, and her care;
And thou, lone sister, now must feel
What simple words can ne'er reveal;—
Thou callest many sister yet,
In tones which they will ne'er forget;
Yet no such love their bosoms fill,
As throbbed in that which now lies still.
You oft, in love, each other greet,