LINES TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS TYRIE,

The fairest flowers that Summer wrings From grassy mound to scent the air— The leaves that sweetest beauty wear When from the skies on happy wings Spring flies to earth—in sad decay Are first to fall, and fade away. And like the garden rose that rears 'Mongst lesser flowers its stately form, But droops and dies before the storm, When Winter's gloomy face appears— Yet leaves within Affection's heart A beauty, that can ne'er depart— A love, that Death may never claim, Nor mix with his forgetful gloom Amidst the stillness of the tomb; So Memory keeps his honoured name Within the mind; there shall it be Till Time shall find Eternity. His life was like the snowy cloud That peaceful decks the evening sky, And fills with love the gazer's eye; But when the voice of thunder loud Commands, it finds an early doom, And disappears amongst the gloom. Or like the snowy-crested wave That sweeps along the sounding shore In sunshine, then is seen no more, Was his sweet life that early gave Its noble soul to Him who lives For aye, and takes but what He gives. Ne'er trod the earth a purer soul Than he, upon whose early bier I lay unworthy tribute here; Nor, while the stream of life shall roll, On earth at least I hope to find A youth of more exalted mind Than he, whom God hath called away To grace the loveful lands of never-dying day!