| Martha Bagshaw (pseud.), Namby pamby, or, A hotch potch of poetic tit-bits; Liverpool : William Gilling, 1875. IN MEMORIAM OF MRS. G. [Widow of Capt. James] Aged 66. Died, March 12, 1870. In vain they gaze on the vacant chair, Her rev’rend form is no longer there, Those scanty tresses of silver grey, Which marked the flight of each year away, Those eyes late bright with affections glow, Are now in the silent tomb laid low, And sorrowing friends, with a saddened mien, Think of her now as a friend that’s been. Twice seven full years have flitted by, Since death did sever her nuptial tie, Both mother’s love, and a father’s care, She did in her own sole person bear, Through all those years, hath her duty done, To aid and cherish, each much loved son ; A task which Heaven hath deigned to bless, With mutual love and joint success. She lies in the village churchyard lone, On a sloping hill, beneath a stone, Still tho’ removed from all earthly eyes, She lives in the mem’ry of her boys; With quiv’ring lip and a tear-stained cheek, They would of her virtues fondly speak, And each doth hope in the coming time, They’ll meet for aye in a heavenly clime. May we from her loss, this lesson learn, That death will seize on us each in turn, Tho’ health and vigour our portion now, Sickness ’ere long and a pallid brow. Then be it the aim of young and old, To shake off all snares of earthly mould, And firm in faith, “ work while it is day," Till death shall summon us each away. |
||