His once brilliant eyes now with tears overflow;
Thy mother sits weeping, thy fond brothers sigh,
The dear little children cease playing and cry.
Fair nature is wearing a mantle of gloom,
Deep sorrow sits brooding all round our sweet home;
The soft venial zephyrs come sighing along,
The streamlets are murm'ring a sad, mournful song.
The gray twilight shades come attended with gloom,
While like a dark pall they encircle thy tomb;
When soft showers descend, something whispers to me,