For the Times and Seasons

Lines addressed to Ms. Mercy R. Thompson the bereaved consort of the late Col. R. B. Thompson, deceased: City of Nauvoo, Ill.

By Miss E. R. Snow.

Fair mourner, I would gladly quell Thou dost not weep, to weep alone!

Thy grief, and bid thy sorrow's rest The broad bereavement seems to fall,

But ah I'm bound with sorrow's spell, Unheeded and unfelt by none:-

And grief is lab'ring in my breast! He was beloved-beyond by all.

While thou shalt shed the copious tear, But lo! what joy salutes our grief!

My tears with thine, would freely blend, Bright rainbows crown the tearful gloom-

Thou hast to mourn a partner dear,- Hope, hope eternal, brings relief-

The Muse, a patronizing friend! Faith, sounds a triumph o'er the tomb.

That tone of pure poetic thought- It sooths [soothes] our sorrow-says to thee,

That rich effusions of the mind, The Lord is chast'ning comes to bless-

Which grac'd the truths, he sweetly taught, God is thy God-he says he'll be

Had with my feelings deeply twin'd. "A father to the fatherless."

And now, my lyre is all unstrung- Celestial glory beams around:

Its cords seem flutt'ring loose on air- My grief subdued-my lyre again

Its keys unnerved-is keenly sprung

With grief, the finger of dispair [despair]!

Reviv'd- renews its joyous sound, 'Tis meet to die, as he has died:-

To chant once more, a fav'rite strain. He smil'd amid death's conquer'd gloom:

While angels waited by his side,

'Tis well with the departed one: To bear a kindred spirit home.

His christian lamp was shining bright;

And when his mortal life went down, Vain are the trophies wealth can give-

His spirit join'd "the saints in light." His mem'ry needs no sculptor's art-

He's left a name-his virtues live

Like golden medals, in the heart.