Oh,
Why Should the Spirit of Mortal B Proud?
Like the swift fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning a break of the wave,
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak and willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid,
And the young and the old the low and the high,
Shall crumble to dust and together shall lie.
Wm. Knox
This poem was found with our genealogy writings.
Like the swift fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning a break of the wave,
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak and willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid,
And the young and the old the low and the high,
Shall crumble to dust and together shall lie.
This poem was found with our genealogy writings.
