For Memorial Day.
On the the airy hillsides
Where wild lilies grow,
In deep shady valleys,
Where blue violets blow,
Under stately tall trees,
On the high hill’s crest;
Under soft green carpets–
Here our darlings rest,
Birds sing in the tree tops,
Under leaves, the nests;
Soft winds sing requiem,
O'er the green earth's breast
Sweet peace reigns ineffable
Over lake and wood,
No idle thoughts here enter–
All is pure and good.
No disturbing influence
Of passion, war, or strife;
No aggressive battles–
That crowd the path of life.
But of the great hereafter,
Of future promised bliss–
That beyond us somewhere
Is a fairer world than this.
Those absent at the roll-call,
Either the blue or gray;
Those mourned and highly honored,
Or in silence laid away,
Kind nature ever guarding–
This changeful world of ours,
Has breathed a benediction–
.And covered them with flowers.
In the mystic eastland.
Where the Saviour trod;
Blest by sacred presence–
Is it nearer God?
Than this precious west land-
Where we sing and pray–
And for all brave unselfish souls,
Bring love and flowers to-day?
Then we can wait securely,
And make our lives serene;
Can trust-our Maker surely–
The way two worlds between,
When by and by he calls us,
in some sweet spot to rest,
Our tired hearts will answer–
Surely, this is best.
Mary A. Stranger.
PETOSKEY RECORD.
J.C.
BONTECOU,
Editor