Lines On The Death Of S. Oliver Torrey

Secretary of the Boston young men's anti-slavery society.     Gone before us, O our brother,     To the spirit-land!     Vainly look we for another     In thy place to stand.     Who shall offer youth and beauty     On the wasting shrine     Of a stern and lofty duty,     With a faith like thine?     Oh, thy gentle smile of greeting     Who again shall see?     Who amidst the solemn meeting     Gaze again on thee?     Who when peril gathers o'er us,     Wear so calm a brow?     Who, with evil men before us,     So serene as thou?     Early hath the spoiler found thee,     Brother of our love!     Autumn's faded earth around thee,     And its storms above!     Evermore that turf lie lightly,     And, with future showers,     O'er thy slumbers fresh and brightly     Blow the summer flowers     In the locks thy forehead gracing,     Not a silvery streak;     Nor a line of sorrow's tracing     On thy fair young cheek;     Eyes of light and lips of roses,     Such as Hylas wore,     Over all that curtain closes,     Which shall rise no more!     Will the vigil Love is keeping     Round that grave of thine,     Mournfully, like Jazer weeping     Over Sibmah's vine;     Will the pleasant memories, swelling     Gentle hearts, of thee,     In the spirit's distant dwelling     All unheeded be?     If the spirit ever gazes,     From its journeyings, back;     If the immortal ever traces     O'er its mortal track;     Wilt thou not, O brother, meet us     Sometimes on our way,     And, in hours of sadness, greet us     As a spirit may?     Peace be with thee, O our brother,     In the spirit-land     Vainly look we for another     In thy place to stand.     Unto Truth and Freedom giving     All thy early powers,     Be thy virtues with the living,     And thy spirit ours