Lines Composed on a Mail Coach

Communicated by Miss Beslee

Lines composed on a Mail Coach in a stormy night addressed to a young lady

From those we love “’tis death to part”
 ’Tis death to leave my home and you
So cries full many a faithful heart
 But who shall prove the assertion true
To prove its truth the task be mine
 For what is death? Ye sages say;
’Tis when the soul, that spark divine
 Leaves its dull tenement of clay
And seeks the blissful seats above
 Its destined home, its native sky;
If this be so, from those we love
 Well may we say “’tis death to fly:”
For while the steeds with flying feet
 Bear thro the night my earthly form
Unconscious of the driving sleet,
 The piercing cold, the raging storm,
My every thought, my mind, my soul,
 Scorns with this drooping frame to roam
And turns to seek its favorite goal
 Its paradise, its heaven, its home.