At Davy’s Grave.
The life of one we called our own
Has ended here.
Here lies his frame; his soul has flown
To grander sphere,
Where pain and suffering come no more,
Where silver waves lap the golden shore,
Where the music of the angelic choir
Falls on the ear.
His simple life showed noble parts
From day to day:
By love and trust, o’er all our hearts
He gained the sway.
Our love and care tenfold repaid
By him, now “dear departed shade,”
Resigned to suffering, while he made
His heavenward way.
The circling lapwing’s eerie cry
O’er the wind-swept mound,
And Afton sweetly singing by
Doth requiem sound.
We’ll leave him here with Nature’s wild,
Fit resting-place for Nature’s child,
Whose life was pure and undefiled,
In hallowed ground.