Lines, On The Death Of The Late John Horsefield, Botanist, Of Prestwich, Poem by Samuel Bamford

Another of the humble great departs,
And sadness clouds the light of many hearts;
Those of his house, who held him truly dear,
Indulge in deep regret, and bitter tear;
Whilst the companions of his leisure day
Sigh, when they find that Horsefield is away:—
The office vacant he so often bore—
His words of thoughtful teaching heard no more.

No more he seeks the fern within the dell,
Nor humid moss that drips beside the well;
Nor pimpernel, that weather warns the poor;
Nor golden asphodel, that gems the moor;
Nor purple heath, that scents the breezy wild;
Nor hyacinth, of shady nooks the child;
Nor sun-dew, glittering on the moorland dun,
Nor primrose coyly nestling to the sun.
He cares not for the choicest herb that grows,
Since life hath failed and he takes repose.
Thou'st journey'd long—the storm is on the plain;
Come weary one, and rest, and live again.

And thus it is,—we pass like dew away,
Or, like the summer flowers, that will not stay.
The germ of life, becomes a plant, and dies;
And in its place another plant doth rise.
'All flesh is grass,'—the myriads rise and grow,
And, quickly as they come, so quick they go.
Whilst one awakes, another disappears;
And death, the friendly, wipes the dying tears.
Oh! wondrous life, through which we laugh and weep!
Oh! beauteous death, that lulls to placid sleep!
And still a change-for knowledge certifies,
Death is but life beneath another guise.
Our day recedes, and scarce the curfew rings,
Ere death enfolds us in her cloudy wings,
And opes a world where life anew begins,
A race of change where every starter wins.
The goal is won—the goal is instant pass'd—
The race goes on, and shall for ever last
The dead are living, and the living die!
Oh! God, what is this great eternity?
Humbly I ask, and God doth answer send—
'Tis endless change, and time without an end.'
Thus live and perish breathing creatures must,
They come from dust, and all return to dust.

So farewell, husband, ever dear and true,
Parent, receive our last, our long adieu.
Neighbour, farewell, our kindly greetings o'er;
Companion dear, we part to meet no more.
So, husband, parent, neighbour, steadfast friend,
All ties dissolve when human life doth end;
Until in spirit-life, again we rise,
And meet thee in the fields of Paradise.