Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/97

He shall mourn and cry in vain
   O'er the dead.
Wandering in a stranger-land,
None shall grasp his listless hand,
No sweet sister-nurse shall stand
   By his bed.

Weep for him, and weep for those
Who shall never more unclose
Home's dear portals, nor repose
   In its rest.
Foreign where their kindred dwell,
Strange where they have loved too well,
Homesick as no speech can tell,
   All unblest.

For the dead thou shalt not mourn,
He hath reached a peaceful bourne;
Weep for him, the travel-worn,
   All alone!
Life's long torture he must bear
Till his very soul despair,
Helpless both for cry or prayer;
   Make his moan!