The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1879-02-19
In Memory of John W. RoOb, jr., Ro.edals, Mis-.
BY WILL II. HERMAN.

BY WILL H. KEENAN,.
The bright Jane-lights were shining. like
the giaddest smile of God;
The white June-lilies sparkled in the fresh
and fragrant sod;
The sweet June-winds, were wingipO
through the powerful woods ana fair,
The will June birds were singing in the
violet arc of air.
Never did morn diviner on our roseful
Suuland rise,
Since the glad stars sang together in the
blue, trium plant skies
Then It was, o, Poet-brother! then it was
saw thee last
There the lights concentre on thee in NV
Kingdom OF the Past
How the jocund hours went dancing! and
what friends We met that Day,
There t0as Hofta,td, The Great hearted, aoho has
goHe The HeareHty ,oay;
There 1oas Falconer, the Fearless,-toept Nth
o, such loiStf,J tears;
and Frank Walter in the Jrtghtest flush and
pieHdor Of his years!
In glorious procession, with the gifted and
the brave,
With the beautiful and loving they have
filed through the grave,
To the stars spheres sempterual, far beyond
the secret skies,
There to walk beside still waters, under
palms OF Paradise,-
Z.
have lived aud died for man,
Since that TAR, fresh -hearted Morning when
Humanity began.
".
And while still our tears were falling where
their shining footprints be,
Suddenly there came a summons, and this
time il came for .hee;
Thou must leave thy ringing Tyre, wreathed
with half-blown flowers, unstrung,
Leave thy labors uncompleted, and thy
sweetest songs unsung.
Why was il? o, why was it? In vain-in
vain we cry -
From out the far, white citadels returneth
no reply.
The day when last We spoke farewell, is dead
forevermore;
No summer in the years to be its radiance
can restore.
AS bright the skies may shine; as white the
faky lilies flower;
The winds may wing, the song birds sing, as
Ia that haicyon hour;
But O. its occult loveliness, its subtle thrills
OF bliss;
Its mystic lights and melody forever l will
miss;
For thy presence, O, thy presence, there 1
uevermore viii see,
And with thee from the vision went its very
soul from me.
But there is Revelation, and it reads it.
self t. man;
Known it was in every cycle; unto every
creed aHd elan;
Taught the simple heart primeval by the
stll small voice within;
Prompting it to deeds of duty--urging it to
shrink from SIN;
Pictured on the cliffs aud lowands CHM
ing in the surge of seas;
Glowing in the star-dust golden; blossom
ing in shrubs and trees;
Bearning in the looks love-lighted of the
tender and the true;
Whispered by the lips of spirits sheltered
from our mortal view;
Speaking in our hopes and warnings, and
our dim dreams OF the night.
Tempering our tears and passion when
pure soul wings its flight;
Proving stronger and supremer as the world
heaves high and higher
From the depths of superstition and the
mists of low desire.
And this Revelation readeth that OUR DEAD
HAVE NEVER DIED.
That it was the yoke and letters only that
they laid aside;
That they live in Kingdom fairer than is lit
by mortal sum-
Thrilled with triumph at the conquest and
the crown forever won.
And where purer joys and purer draw
them to diviner planes,
And forever, reaching toward them, some
new Happiness remains;
Where with yictor-s0ngs of gladness they
will welcome us at last,
When the frost-chain and the fever of our
lives are oyerpast.
And l know in that leal Kingdom is thy
Tyre heard to-day,
Sweeter, sweeter and completer than when
manacled with clay;
For l know thy spirit liveth and know it
leadeth still;
That a high aud holy mission it will help
US 10 fulfill.
Though we strew the rose and lily on thy
youthful shrine with tears,
There is this TO recompense us that through
all the rounding years
Thou wilt lead us high and higher to the
bright, victorious spheresl
VIII
Poet-brother! P0et-b rother ! tcRen the tchite
'HuQnolidS bloom,
Or the tctntryyslos are tceepiag at the dark door
Of nay tomb,
In the Country Of Conteatment may mine oton
companions be,
Poet, brother! Poet-broher thee, aud great,
grand souls like thee
OKoLoNA, Miss, February, 1879.
THE PALE REAPER.