Transcription
[??] [?-illegible]
1876
My Dear Greene,
Here are some lines that / came into my mind this / morning. I have no more / idea how they came nor / why they came, than you / have; but you will sympa- / thize with them as giving / accents and emphasis to / the quiet lives of scholars
H. W. L.
[END OF PAGE 1]
In the Churchyard at Tarrytown.
Here lies the gentle humorist, who died.
In the bright Indian Summer of his fame.
A simple stone, with but a date and name,
Marks his secluded resting-place beside
The river that he loved and glorified.
Here in the Autumn of his days he came,
But the dry leaves of life were all aflame
With tints, that brightened and were multiplied.
[END OF PAGE 2]
How sweet a life was his; how sweet a death!
Living, to wing with mirth the weary hours,
Or with romantic tales the heart to cheer;
Dying, to leave a memory like the breath
Of the South Wind, that blows o’er beds of flowers,
And fills with fragrance all atmosphere.
Oct 2, 1876
[END OF PAGE 3]Transcriber
Kathryn AlexanderLanguage
English
