|Transcription of the Poem|
Lay him gently to his rest,
Fold his pale hands on his breast,
From his brow_
Oh how cold and marble fair!
Softly part the tangled hair, _
Look upon him now!
As a weary child he lies,
With the quiet dreamleſ  eyes
On which the lashes darkly sweep,
The soul’s adieu to earthly strife,
And on his face the deep repose,
We never saw in life.
Peaceful he his rest, and deep:
Let him sleep!
No tears for him, he needs them not,
Along life’s drear and toilsome road
Firmly his manly footsteps trode,
Striving to bear his weary lot, _
With such a pain within his heart,
The firmness of the manly will
Veiling the secret smart,
Oh! it is well the strife is o’er,
That thus so peaceful he lies,
Unheeding now the bitter words,
The cold, unpitying eyes,
Fold his mantle o’er his breast;
Peaceful be his sleep, and blest;
Let him rest!
No sigh to breathe above his bier
No tear to stain the marble brow;
Only with tender pitying love,
Only with faith that looks above,
We gaze upon him now
No thought of toil and suffering past, _
But joy to think the task is done;
The heavy cross at last laid down
The crown of glory won,
Oh! bear him gently to his rest,
Oh! gently pile the flowering sod,
And leave his body to the dust,
His spirit to his God.
Susan Archer Talley.
|Information About the Poem|