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Poems: With a Sketch of the Life and Experience of Annie R. Smith

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    Lines To J. T. and M. T. Lane, on the death of their little Child, Francis M. Lane, July 25, 1858

    Still reigns the tyrant Death in sable power;
    Sorrow and mourning wait at his command;
    For tender bud as well as blooming flower,
    Fades ‘neath the touch of his relentless hand.
    PSAS 134.3

    And hath his summons to your hearts been spoken?
    Hath his dark shadow crossed your threshold o’er?
    Hath he links of fond affection broken,
    And borne a loved one from this mortal shore?
    PSAS 134.4

    So hath a floweret from your pathway faded;
    A bright star shining o’er you set in gloom;
    Bright rays of hope are from your vision shaded
    By the dark curtain of the silent tomb.
    PSAS 134.5

    ‘Tis well to weep: stay not the bitter tears
    If thus the burdened heart may find relief;
    For this dark earth hath been six thousand years
    A vale of woe, a charnel-house of grief.
    PSAS 135.1

    Know then that here where dearest forms have perished,
    There’s nothing true on which our love to shed;
    Not where death reigns can hopes of bliss be cherished,
    Which may not wither ‘neath his icy tread.
    PSAS 135.2

    But ah! there is land whose shores are nearing;
    The ills of earth its soil shall never bear;
    Of that bright world there stands this promise cheering:
    Death finds no entrance—pain no victims there.
    PSAS 135.3

    To that fair land be now your footsteps tending;
    Fix heart and treasure on that blissful shore,
    Where friends shall re-unite in joy unending,
    Nor taste the pangs of separation more.
    PSAS 135.4

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