FRANCIS BROWN

One full of honors—beautiful white soul! Has joined the high assembly and the school Of saints and sages in the clear, pure light, That like a river of peace through Heaven doth roll,

Beyond the darkness of our earthly night, Where his dear Master, Christ, Himself doth rule.

Learned and wise in wisdom of the books, A scholar, gentleman, a spirit clear, Whose brightness shone from out his gentle looks;

Not quick to give himself, but, oh! how dear When in some rare, high moment we could see

How deep the sources of that buried life must be!

Lo! as I write, the long years slip away, The honors from his weary shoulders fall, Once more we walk the dear old college way, With old, prophetic dreams, and one and all Are boys again, with minds aflame for truth. And the long thoughts of our high-hearted youth.

I see him standing, as I saw him then, The clear, sound mind, with heart of courtesy.

We knew him then as now,—a prince of men;

One who should lead beyond the troubled sea Of vexing questions to the higher faith In God—both here and past the incident of death.

Hail and farewell, dear friend! the clear, white light

Of your fine spirit guides us on our way— A little, struggling band to wage the fight Till the long twilight glimmers into day.

In thought of thy braVe soul, we meet each battering doom.

Hail and farewell, dear friend! Wait for us till we come. '