Which falls upon the loved one's bier.
Tears are the antidote of grief,--
Kind nature sends them for relief.
While death a prisoner Lazarus kept,
The Son of God stood by and wept;--
And, father, here are tears for thee,
The babe that prattled on thy knee,
And grew in beauty by thy side,
Till warm affection's glowing tide
Gushed from the fountain in thy breast,
To cherish her who made thee blest.
But now, to thee no more appears
This light of thy declining years;
No more her smile brings joy to thee,
When tempest toss'd on life's rough sea.
Fond mother, where's the rosy child
Which once upon thy bosom smiled?--
In her thou daily didst rejoice,--
She caught her language from thy voice;
When she had learned to lisp thy name,
New love with those sweet accents came.
Soon did this bud of promise bloom,
But oh, it blossomed for the tomb!--
Each art, which thy fond care has tried,
The fell destroyer's power defied.
And brothers, ye, too, weeping stand--
Pale death has robbed your household band
Well may stern manhood melt in tears,
The playmate of your early years
Before you lies in death's cold sleep--