• Author: Unknown
• Editor:
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume V
• Page Number:
• Date: 6 19 1918
• Tags:
• poetry
• obituary

AD MEMORIAM

Yours, O sweetly singing soul that’s crowned now with stars; Yours a Golden Memory nor time, nor usage mars. Sweet scented your memory as myrrh, or musk; Sweet as breath of Isle of Spice sea-ward blown at dusk. Oh, sweet to us your memory as any that we keey, Memory of home, or friends, or mother that we weep. All the broken hearts you healed are singing now your praise; And all the broken men you helped to better things, and days, Are mourning now your passing, and they will not be consoled; Are as sheep without a shepherd, careless of the rain, and cold; Wistful for the singing voice to lead them once again, As in other days it led them when they were but broken men. Oh, hard and bitter was eur lot when first to us you came; The silence, and the cell; and the abiding shame. You trod a straitened path with us for many weary years; In His Name you counselled ‘‘Courage,” In His Name you banished fears: And the still, small voice conquered—terror shall not come again— For they hearkened to your counsel, and are making of us, men!