  How we long to see the faces That have crossed the silent tide— Faces marked with care and sorrow, Faces full of joy and pride; Some with furrowed brow and hoary, Some in youth’s lamented bloom;— One by one from us departed, For the cold and silent tomb. Birds employ their notes of gladness As they flutter to and fro, Flow’rs display their wealth of beauty, As they used to long ago; But the birds may sing forever, And the flow’rs forever bloom; They can ne’er bring back the faces That are hidden in the tomb! Silently death steals upon us, Silently time speedeth on— Soon we, too, shall all be numbered, With the faces that are gone; Each and all must shortly follow Thro’ the shadows and the gloom, To the loved ones who are waiting In the light beyond the tomb. |
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