The vacant chairs are closer drawn
Where weary hearts draw nearer them
And softly whisper, "they are gone."

The low-hung clouds in pity sent,
Their floral tributes from the skies,
And sobbing winds their voices lent
To stifled sobs and bitter sighs.

In spotless beauty their myriads lay,
Upon Freedom's flag like frozen tears
Or petals of the flowers of May,
In perfumed softness on their bier.

Oh, may they not have died in vain,
Those gallant youths of Freedom's land,
They sought not any earthly gain
And perished that the right might stand.


The death of the following is depicted in "Dr. Le Baron and his
Daughters." "In memory of seventy-two seamen who perished in
Plymouth harbor on the 26 and 27 days of December, 1778, on
board the private armed Brig. Gen. Arnold, of twenty guns, James
Magee of Boston, Commander, sixty of whom were buried on this
spot."

"Oh falsely flattering were yon billows smooth
When forth elated sailed in evil hour
That vessel whose disastrous fate, when told,