There is no tongue or word can call you back,
Only the memory of yesteryears long gone,
Of love's bright essence washing on a distant shore.
Death with a cold hand has broken all Time's
Fleshy locks and left us drear and lonely on
This barren plain. And yet the love that holds
Us all and tempers all our ills and pains
Searches for a home to call its own.
Rest softly mother on the wings of peace.
Your fitful race is done and you can sleep.