Sent up by thousands from this erring world
Would they not then for pardon wildly cry,
Ere in the whirlpool of Destruction hurled?
’Tis “hidden from our view,” and it is well!
But traveling through this vale of sin and strife,
Should not thy memory be to us a spell,
Thy pure and holy thoughts, thy blameless life?
They who above thy grave so sadly wept
Shall change as other years roll swiftly by—
And look upon the tokens they have kept,