Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1892-04-13
For the SPECTATOR.
DEDICATED TO S. L. D., WASHING
TON, d. c., IN MEMORY OF MY
NEPHEW, GLEN.
BY N. w. v.

NEPHEW, GLEN.
BY N. w. V.
The weeks and months have passed away
Until a year is fed
Since we all gathered silently
Around his dying bed,
| While there we stood in trembling awe
As he was crossing DER,
| The bright bird, Hope was singing on
Above the darkened door,
But wounded, bleeding, fell at last
And fiuttered out of sight,
| And from the wasted body then
His spirit took it's flight.
| Our empty aspirations, all
In heaps around us lay
| The idol of so many hearts,
shattered piece of clay.
In frenzied grief a wicked wall
Come up from broken reeds
0 death, why take the blooming plants
And leave the useless weeds?
The Lord forgives these maddened sins,
For He our weakness knows.
He marks the worn and pallid cheek
And every tear that flows.
All! no elixir found within
Times broad and sweeping wing,
His plumage only hides the wounds
That often bleed and sting.
Forgotten, will he ever be
For whom tonight we weep?
Yes! ac1len in some neglected spot
Our lonely ashes sleep!
Though other shining jewels may
Adorn life's diadem,
No brighter one can glitter there
Than unpretending Glen!
His errors, faults, and failures were
All into virtues turned,
The tinted cheek so smooth and fair
With shame had never burned.
He always chose an humble place
Unconscious Of his light.
The monday Sun need never say
''Behold me! am bright"
A reverent silence, by him, was
So gracefully maintained,
While listening to superiors
From whom he wisdom gained.
They saw at'once his modest worth
And his retiring mien;
I.hey saw he had no wish to be
There either heard or seen.
HIS busy, active life concealed
ITO yearnings for renown,
His honesty and love of truth
The laurels he laid down,
Alas, we never had friend
In whom we could conf1de,
But that the gods have sundered us,
Or else they dropped and died.
And when we search through jewels till
The brightest one is found,
From our frightened grasp it slips
And breaks upon the ground.
We hope-these darling treasures-lost
In life's uncertaian sea-
Wen find upon the blissful shores
OF vast eternity
In fancy to that saddened home
We now a visit pay
The doors and blinds are still all closed
AS when we went away.
Untouched, the snowy couch remains,
And motionless his chair,
And here and there are lying things
He used to prize and wear.
Among these sacred relics, we
Can but a moment stay,
Our last farewell is hidden, and
We homeward wend our way.
Oh, can it be Arcadia" is
By strangers occupied?
1t was his boyhood'S happy home
1t was his joy and pride.
And when from toll and cares he'd fly
For pleasure or for rest,
He'd never fold his weary wings
Until he reached the nest
In sight of it, with broken hearts
We laid his hallowed dust,
And there we're linked by many chains
That cannot break or rust
Alas! when died the brightest bird
Arcadia" ever knew,
The other birds grew songless there,
And spread their wings and flew.
They're gone to build another nest.
Secure from tempeSts? No
For 'sThey who build beneath the skies
Will always build too low"
MAY then build in the Fathers love
And in His love abide,
And from the dark, impending storms
In His pavilion hide.
Through grief the dross must be consumes
Through grief refined the gold
Our feet be pierced by many thorns
Before we reach the fold.
Now stand ajar, ye heavenly gates,
That stricken ones may see
If he has found "a resting place.
In Thee, O God, in Thee.
That he was saved, alas, to ms,
Was no assurance given;
But how could one so good as he
Be turned away from heaven?
Another, too, was wounded by
The missile that was hurled;
She is tonight cOmmuning with
The great eternal world.
% dark-eyed hero, speak to her
A tender loving word,
A whisper up in heaven oft
Upon the earth is heard,
iStoop low and with thy plighted hand
Brush from her cheek the tears,
For thou wouldst have no scars remain
To blight her future years.
Would aue inf1ict another wound?
Or e'en the old one probe?
No, rather would we clothe her soul
In some bright faultless robe.
We'd have her dwell within the sheen
OF Pleasures verdant tree,
Her manyJoyous happy years
Without winter be.
% Peri! from thy magic hand
Let roses on her fall
As lovely as the hOuris, may
Our heroine be called,
And may her shining vessels all
In safety cross the sea,
And cast their priceless jewels down
Wherever she may be.
o Savior, lead her in the paths
Where holy feet have been;
/ Oh keep her pure and spotless life
From every shade of sin,
And when 1.-The silver cord is loosed''
And all her work is done,
Within Thine own great loving arms
Receive this precious one.
oh bear her happy spirit up
To fadeless meads above
Where bright seraphic millions sing
The songs of endless love.
THE eye of youth and beauty there
With tears is never dim,
She will-in that vast mighty throng-
Steal softly up to him,
He'll know the bonny heroine