  One more tender, fragile flower Faded from our sight to-day, Just as spring-time’s buds and blossoms Ushered in the bloom of May. She had lingered, fading slowly, Till the op’ning of the day; ’Mid its radiant, dewy fragrance, Her sweet spirit soared away. We’ve sung her last sad requiem, Closed the eyes that lost their sight— Eyes that beamed with love and beauty, Eyes that shone with holy light. Ah, how many hearts will miss thee, Miss thy smile and gentle tone; Life’s but emptiness and shadow When the loved and lost are gone. In the graveyard on the upland That o’erlooks an inland sea, Where the flowers bloom in beauty, Where the birds sing wild and free: In the grave we sadly laid her At the quiet eventide, And the thoughts that filled our bosoms Breathed of prayer and faith sublime. She’s not dead, she only sleepeth From the cares of earthly strife; She’ll arise more fair and perfect To a grander, nobler life. If we follow in her footsteps, We, too, may the goal attain: Just beyond the Stygian river Blooms a life that’s not in vain. |
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