Poems (Rice)/With a Wreath
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WITH A WREATH, ON THE DEATH OF A VALUED FRIEND, P. W.
COULD I weave a wreath of fadeless flowers
Of amaranthine hue,
Could I cull sweet flowers from Eden's bowers
All wet with fragrant dew,
I would bring them now to deck his bier,
I'd crown him for the grave;
Who thought to him that death was near,
The generous, the brave?
Of amaranthine hue,
Could I cull sweet flowers from Eden's bowers
All wet with fragrant dew,
I would bring them now to deck his bier,
I'd crown him for the grave;
Who thought to him that death was near,
The generous, the brave?
How suddenly the dreadful summons came,
I tremble while I think;
But then our loss is his eternal gain
And we are on the brink.
Alas! alas! I may not finish this,
This chaplet of flowers,
Before a message from the realms of bliss
May bear me to its bowers.
I tremble while I think;
But then our loss is his eternal gain
And we are on the brink.
Alas! alas! I may not finish this,
This chaplet of flowers,
Before a message from the realms of bliss
May bear me to its bowers.
This is a simple offering sure,
But what more can I bring?
It is a tribute of affection pure,
An humble offering.
How calm he sleeps! life's struggles all are o'er;
No farewell word was said;
And few I know will be lamented more;
He sleeps—he is not dead.
But what more can I bring?
It is a tribute of affection pure,
An humble offering.
How calm he sleeps! life's struggles all are o'er;
No farewell word was said;
And few I know will be lamented more;
He sleeps—he is not dead.