MISS FRANCES WYMAN TRACY,

O young and beautiful, thy step

Was light with fairy grace,

And well the music of thy voice

Accorded with thy face,

And blent with those attractive charms

How fair it was to see

Thy tenderness for her who fill'd

A Mother's place to thee.

Yet all the pure and holy ties

Thus round thy being wove,

They are not lost, they are not dead,

They have a life above.

What though the sleepless care of love

Might not avail to save,

And sorrow with her dropping tear

Keeps vigil o'er thy grave,

Faith hath a rainbow for the cloud,

A solace for the pain,

A promise from the Book Divine

To rise, nor part again.