Delaware gazette. [volume] (Delaware, Ohio) 1855-1886, 1867-03-01
Written for the Delaware Gazette.
The Sisters Grief
A0eotionateIy Inscribed to Je,laia 4

You ask me why sit and sigh,
And why no more I'm glad,
And tears so OFT bedeW mine eye
And why my voice is sad.
You'll wonder not when Ihave told,
i The cause Of ain my tears; a-
Or why my brow seems soaEred lgltl olli5 -.
As If with weight of years.
Near California's golden coast,
gallant ship@ went down,
And he who was my pride and boast,
Whose graees like a CROWN
shone on his manly f5ce ana 11rrai
Ny brother, true end brave,
with hundreds in that fearful stornn,
Went down beneath the Wave.t
Oh Godt the heavy weislitof woe,
That settled on our home, lglow,
And quenched ia night IS warmth and
When that sad news Wera come
.Wrhat grief and desolation feiI
Upon each loving heart;
The echo of OF a funeral knell,
That never car. depart.
My mother with a.whi6ehed cheek,
Moves roNAd with footsteps slow
And fathers voice, when he doth speak,
Us pitiful Of woe,
F
seems on their young hearts laid,
And an their Joys, once loved so wen,
Neglected lie and fade.
And i, who 0noslwasih the crowd,
The gayest Of the gay,
. In sable robes, now crushed and bowed,
Could weep my life away,
.Icannot langh, cannot sing,
And Z can smile no naore.
For ever ia my ears doth ring,
That mad seas sulIsn roar.
And in my dreams By day and might.
Wherever I may be, egg
EUprises on my stricken sight,
That wreck upon theHea.
And down beneath the wagea view,
Ny brother sluTn beIillg there,
The de8th-flnl DER d hg eggs of blue,
The sand amid bis hair.
While alinay flsh go ElibtRgO'er
The cheeks I once paressB
And pilIoWed in the days Of yor8,
Upon a lowing breast
While cruel. monsters OF the deep,
About him hungry crowd,
And tangled weeds In many a heap,
Have woven him a shroud.
Oh, would that might drop veil
Upon that fearful scene,
And hide each spectre gaunt and pale,
That ever dits between.
Oh, would that I might close mine ears,
Unto that maddening roar
And wipe away these bitter tears,
And grieve, and siglln more.
But In my dreams by night and day
Wherever I may be,
I-view the waters wild affray,
That wreck upon the sea.
/ And yet I cannot make him dead,
But start, and qutvering watt
When on the path hear a tread,
Or clicking Of the gate;
or springing up I smooth my hair,
And hasten to the door,
And think to see him standing there,
AS in the days of yore.
tits not he: I turn away,
with still a deeper woe
And life seems one long wintry day,
Filled mp with frost and snow.
He was the idol Of our home,
The cherished one Of all
And on, to think the deep seas f9aEus
s is now his funeral pail.
Twas sin in us to love him so,
But when a saint IS given,
To dwell with mOrtals here below,
With graces born Of Heavens,
What wonder If our hearts eutWine,
Round him with deatlIess love,
AS doth the trustfuI ivy vine,
To arches far above.
And oh, we thought this earth ne'erheld,
A spirit pure as he
Woef for death's crueIhand That feIled,
And hid him meath the sea-
And we must mourn, yea, ever mourn
For him must ever yearn,
Until we seek that silent bourne,
From which he'll ne 7er return.
Untu the waiIings Of the sea,
The waves wilereoh lle tossed,
In Heavens eternal melody
And bliss, are ever lost.
-AnRie Hone Thomson
aThe "Brother Jonathan about a year ago.