Frank is dead! Omniscient pleasure
Has closed his bright career too soon
To realize how rich a treasure
The ranks had entered ere high noon.
His brilliant promise, dashed in youth,
One less is left to fight for truth.
Frank is dead! Yes, dead to mortals.
No more we’ll see his noble brow
Or flashing eye; but in the portals
Above, by faith I see him now
With gladden’d step and fluttering heart,
Marching to share the better part.
Frank is dead!! No, never, never!
Not dead but only gone before.
Back,—back! Thou tear-drop, rising ever;
Nor Heaven’s fiat now deplore.
Wail not the sorrows earth can lend
To banish spirits that ascend.
And fare thee well, my noble brother!
’Tis hard to think that thou art not;
To realize that never other
Footstep like thine shall share my cot,
And think of all thy heart endured,
By sore besetments often tried.
But,—Heaven be thanked,—all now is cured
And thou, fair boy, art glorified.
[New-Year Ode.]
[1863.]
Let the bier move onward.—Let no tear be shed.
The midnight watch is ended: The grim old year is dead.
His life was full of turmoil. In death he ends his woes.
As fraught with toil his pilgrimage, may peaceful be its close.
Let the bier move onward.—Let no tear drop fall.
The couch of birth is waiting the egress of the pall.
Haste! Hasten the obsequies:—the natal hour is nigh.
Waste not a moment weeping when expectation’s high.
* * * * * *
Draw back the veil; the curtain lift.
Ho! Thirsting hearts, rejoice!
The new-born is no puny gift:—
Time’s latest, grandest choice.