A Sister’s Thoughts over a Brother’s Grave
He sleeps in peace! Death's cold eclipse His radiant eyes hath shrouded o'er, And slander's poison, from the lips Of woman, on his heart no more Distils, and burns it to its core. He sleeps in peace! The noble spirit That beamed forth from his living brow, Prompt, at the shrine of real merit, With reverence and with truth to bow, Is, by false tongues, not troubled now. He sleeps in peace! And, while he sleeps, He dreams not of earth's loves or strifes; The tears a sister for him weeps,— He knows not that they 're not his wife's! His thoughts are all another life's. I hope he knows not that the hand Once given to him is now another's; I know, the flame that once it fanned Had all gone out. I know my brother's Last thoughts were of my love and mother's. I hope he knows not that his child Hears not nor knows its father's name. Keep its young spirit undefiled And worthy of its father's fame, O Thou, from whom its spirit came! Thou Father of the fatherless, The mantle that my brother wore,— The robe of truth and faithfulness,— Keep, for his infant, in thy store; My brother hath left nothing more! That mantle!—men had seen him throw It amply round him ere it fell! Peace, brother, 't is as white as snow; No one of all on earth that dwell Can stain what once became thee well. In peace thou sleepest;—through the bars Of its dim cell thy spirit fled; And now thy sister and the stars Their tears of dew and pity shed, Heart-broken brother, on thy bed.
John Pierpont’s other poems:
