[From the "Overland Monthly."] 



Born, Feb. 14, 1832. — Died, May 26, 1872. 



There seems a sadness in the air. 



A shadow on the eastern sky ; 

 The breezes wafted to the west 



Are burdened with a sigh. 



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The birds are silent in the trees ; 



With grief each wild flower droops its head ; 

 The butterflies have furled their wings — 



For Nature whispers, " He is dead." 



I walk upon the sea-girt sands ; 



A shell is cast within my reach ; 

 Unto my ear I place its lips, 



And listen to its speech. 



From far within its heart of pearl, 

 A low and saddened undertone — 



A blending as of words and tears — 

 Says softly, " He is gone." 



Dear Mother Earth, within thy breast 

 Press tenderly his wasted form ; 



Sing soothing hymns, ye summer winds; 

 Blow gently, winters storm. 



Affection, from thy deepest well 



Renew, with waters sweet and pure. 



The freshness of his memory. 

 That it may long endure. 



R. E. C. S. 



San Francisco, 1872. 



