Thou delicate blossom; thy short race is ended, <br />Thou sample of virtue and prize of the brave! <br />No more are thy beauties by mortals attended, <br />They now are but food for the worms and the grave. <br /> <br /> <br />Thou art gone to the tomb, whence there's no returning, <br />And left us behind in a vale of suspense; <br />In vain to the dust do we follow thee mourning, <br />The same doleful trump will soon call us all hence. <br /> <br /> <br />I view thee now launched on eternity's ocean, <br />Thy soul how it smiles as it floats on the wave; <br />It smiles as if filled with the softest emotion, <br />But looks not behind on the frowns of the grave. <br /> <br /> <br />The messenger came from afar to relieve thee-- <br />In this lonesome valley no more shalt thon roam; <br />Bright seraphs now stand on the banks to receive thee, <br />And cry, 'Happy stranger, thou art welcome at home.' <br /> <br /> <br />Thou art gone to a feast, while thy friends are bewailing, <br />Oh, death is a song to the poor ransom'd slave; <br />Away with bright visions the spirit goes sailing, <br />And leaves the frail body to rest in the grave. <br /> <br /> <br />Rebecca is free from the pains of oppression, <br />No friends could prevail with her longer to stay; <br />She smiles on the fields of eternal fruition, <br />Whilst death like a bridegroom attends her away. <br /> <br /> <br />She is gone in the whirlwind--ye seraphs attend her, <br />Through Jordan's cold torrent her mantle may lave; <br />She soars in the chariot, and earth falls beneath her, <br />Resign'd in a shroud to a peaceable grave.<br /><br />George Moses Horton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-death-of-rebecca/
