The Argosy — page 270: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

In Lobing RWememdbranee. MRS. HENRY WOOD. Died, February toth, 1887. SHE could not wait until the earth was drest In flush of blossom and in cowslip gold ; A voice was calling to her—‘‘ Come and rest: In our fair Land we know not heat nor cold.” Her spirit hearkened to the high behest ; The work was ended, and the tale was told. How was it told—that story of a life? Faithfully, bravely, tenderly and well, Firm friend, sweet mother, true and loving wife, No bitter murmurs from her kind lips fell ; Still, through the discord of our common strife, Her soft tone echoes like a silver bell. How slow to blame, and oh, how swift to bless ! How patient through our changing loves and hates, How gentle in the time of heart-distress, And calm in all the war of wild debates! We, who have loved her, know her loveliness, And lo! the angels praise her at the Gates. Good-bye, dear friend, until the Day shall break— The Golden Day that bids the shadows flee, Sweeter than dawn of spring, when daisies take The dewy light that shines o’er vale and lea: We, who are weary now, shall sleep, and wake To a fresh life, and find ourselves with thee. SARAH DOUDNEY. COMmicoooks.com