Hush! There's a solemn pause,
And looks of fear!
You ask--Whence comes the cause?
Grim Death is here!

Oh! well thou answerest, well--
'Tis fairly said;
Our hearts thrill to the knell,
"The King is dead!"

Dead! And the bell swings, swings
On in its deep, sad tone;
We own the King of Kings
Is King alone!

We crown our Kings, we place
Bay leaves on victors' brow,
But all our mortal race
Can boast is _now._

The body lay in state,
All fair to mortal eye;
The soul's eternal fate--
Oh! Death, thy mystery!




TO "X. Y. Z.,"
On receiving a paper from him.