June 29, 1861.
"'Tis beautiful," she faintly cried,
Then closed her weary eyes and died.
So stands plain fact on history's page,
Attested to by friend and sage.
But in our hearts the fact grows bright,
Illumined with immortal light.
For open eyes saw heaven's shores,
And life, not death, revealed its stores.
"'Tis beautiful!" It must be so,
If such a soul 'midst parting's woe,
Could with truth's perfect clearness see
The secret of life's mystery;
Could know that fullest life of man
Needs heaven's light to round God's plan.
O woman-soul without a peer,
We thank thee more and more each year
For this sweet proof of Beauty's power
Beyond earth's transitory hour.
It calms our hours of doubt and pain,
And beautifies earth's troubled reign,
To feel that thou art sending still
This same sweet message of God's will,
Born of fruition's grander sight,
Of perfect beauty, peace, and light.