To The Lamented Memory Of F. H. C.

Sweet friend, farewell! to whom propitious birth
Gave beauty—sense—the prosperous goods of earth;
To whom not less were faith and duty given,
Those better gifts which fit our earth for heaven.
First by glad days—then through long sickness tried,
'Mid pleasures—pure—by pain still purified;—
Such was that soul, which meekly kissed the rod,
Then soared, for us too soon, and rests with God.
Farewell! our love inscribes this faithful stone,
Not to bewail thy lot, but weep our own.

Remembrance Of Sunset

Where silent elms are clustering round
That grey church-tower, which peers above,
She sleeps beneath the narrow mound,
Whom I had loved with brother's love.
The sun, o'er yonder wooded height
Slow-drawing on his evening streak,
Had glanced a ray of rosy light
Athwart her pale and dying cheek;
And while that glorious orb of his
Yet hung—departing—in the west,
Amid a kindred scene like this
Her noble spirit sank to rest.
But, ever since, this westering light,
These purpled hills, that flaming sea,
Those streaks o'er yonder wooded height,
Though beauteous still, are sad to me.