By Rob Morris1860
Never since, 'neath the daisies laid,
Burns joined the cold and tuneless dead,
Were those sweet lines, his noblest flight,
Sung as you warbled them last night.
They bore us, fancy-winged, above
They thrilled the inmost soul with love
And tears confessed The fond Adieu
As given so well, last night, by you.
Ah, what a thing is this to spread,
That binds the living with the dead,
And makes them one fraternal throng,
As you, last night. so justly sung.
How blest are we who rightly claim
The Mason's heart, the Mason's name,
And see the Hieroglyphic bright!
Of which you sung, so well, last night.
Then as you journey sweetly sing
Let Craftsmen hear that tuneful thing
No better can the pen indite
Than those sweet words you sung last night!
Ah, what a power doth music give
To make the dead again to live,
And join with our fraternal throng
As you, last night, so justly sung!
And when your own High XII has come,
And Craftsmen bear you, weeping, home,
May loving friends your requiem write
In those grand words you sung last night!
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