_--From In Memoriam._
MEMORIALS OF THE BEAD.
R. R. MADDEN. [1]
[Footnote 1: Author of "Lives and Times of United Irishmen."]
'Tis not alone in "hallowed ground,"
At every step we tread
Midst tombs and sepulchres, are found
Memorials of the dead.
'Tis not in sacred shrines alone,
Or trophies proudly spread
On old cathedral walls are shown
Memorials of the dead.
Emblems of Fame surmounting death,
Of war and carnage dread,
They were not, in the "Times of Faith,"
Memorials of the dead.
From marble bust and pictured traits
The living looks recede,
They fade away: so frail are these
Memorials of the dead.
On mural slabs, names loved of yore
Can now be scarcely read;
A few brief years have left no more
Memorials of the dead.
Save those which pass from sire to son,
Traditions that are bred
In the heart's core, and make their own
Memorials of the dead.
A CHILD'S REQUIESCAT IN PACE.
_ELIZA ALLEN STARR_.
With the gray dawn's faintest break,
Mother, faithfully I wake,
Whispering softly for thy sake
_Requiescat in pace_!
When the sun's broad disk at height
Floods the busy world with light,
Breathes my soul with sighs contrite,
_Requiescat in pace_!
When the twilight shadows lone
Wrap the home once, once thine own,
Sobs my heart with broken moan,
_Requiescat in pace_!
Night, so solemn, grand, and still,
Trances forest, meadow, rill;
Hush, fond heart, adore His will,
_Requiescat in pace_!
THE SOLITARY SOUL.
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