When she with brother often strayed,
O'er hill and dale and flow'ry glade,
Where golden sunbeams lie.

A fair young friend, whose aching heart
Now feels affliction's keenest dart,
Must long in sadness weep;
Her brightest hopes are fled away,
Alas! her sweetest joys decay,
They in the grave must sleep.

Her heart still bleeds at every pore,
That much loved form she'll see no more,
Till Gabriel's trump shall sound;
We trust they'll then in raptures rise,
To that blight world above the skies,
Where tears no more are found.

His aged parents feel the blow;
Long since they gazed upon his brow,
And blessed their infant boy;
Trembling with age, we hear them say,
"This dear support is torn away,
What now can yield us joy?

"Long years we watched our lovely plant,
With care supplied its every want,
And hoped it long might bloom;
But fierce disease has laid it low,
Reckless of tears that 'round it flow.