xxxii BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR 



i. 



The flower of life is gone 'tis well 

 We know each flower will have its day. 

 It were not wise did you repine 

 Because the spring has passed away. 



2. 



The flower was cankered in the bud, 

 It was a sickly faded flower 

 What recks it now? however fair 

 It still had died before this hour. 



3- 



'Aye, but it died and left no fruit, 

 And therefore I must needs lament.' 

 'Lament not for the buried past, 

 For all in vain your grief is spent.' 



4- 



"Tis true, and days to come may bring 

 A sharper woe than all the past, 

 And every passing year may seem 

 To me more bitter than the last.' 



5- 



'Think not of this, but turn to Him 

 Who bids His wearied follower rest, 

 About the altars of whose house 

 The swallow builds itself a nest. 



6. 



Turn you to Hun whose voice can calm 

 The working of our troubled sea, 

 Who brings the way-worn traveller 

 Unto the port where he would be. 



7- 



To Him who said these solemn words, 

 "Blessed are they that weep," 

 Who now as in the days of old 

 Gives His beloved sleep.' 



Jan. 12, 1848. 



I do lament me for the days gone by, 



All spent in loving frail mortality : 



Else I had been what now I cannot be, 



For I had wings wherewith to mount on high. 



