Requiem.

The touch of Time, that with a tender grace Lulls the said grief for loved one called away,
Doth now conspire some mellowed thought to trace,
Giving us solace on our earthly way.
Haply the pile that we, with loving hands,
Hath raised o'er them, their monument to be,
Calls the lone stranger, who, in passing, scans
To raise a prayer, to voice his sympathy.
The loving heart that in this anxious breast
Is now resigned and keeps no thought of fear,
E'en waits alone to hear God's kind behest
That bids him join again the loved one dear.