RICE, Paul L.

Died in France, October 23, 1918.

One precious to our heart has gone;
The voice we loved is stilled;
The place made vacant in our home
Can never more be filled.
Our Father in His wisdom called
The boy His love had given,
And though on earth the body lies,
The soul is safe in heaven.

When we see the precious blossom
That we tended with such care
Rudely taken from our bosom,
How our hearts almost despair;
'Round your grave we longed to linger
Till the setting sun was low, 
Feeling all our hopes had vanished
With the flower we cherished so.

This lovely young man, so fair,
Called hence by early doom,
Just came to show how sweet a flower
In paradise could bloom.
Ere sin could harm or sorrow fade,
Death came with fiendish care,
The opening bud to heaven conveyed
And bade it blossom there.

Dear Paul, thy gentle voice is hushed,
Thy warm, true heart is still,
And on thy pale and peaceful face
Is resting death's cold chill,
Thy hands are clasped upon thy breast,
We have kissed thy marble brow,
And in our aching hearts we know 
We have no “Paul” now.

'Tis hard to break the tender cords
When love has bound the heart;
'Tis hard, so hard, to speak the words
"We must forever part."
Dearest loved one, we have laid thee
In the peaceful grave’s embrace.
But thy memory will be cherished
Till we see thy shining face.

Peaceful be thy silent slumber,
Peaceful in thy grave so low;
Thou no more will join our number,
Thou no more our sorrow will know
Yet again we hope to meet thee
When the days of life are fled,
And in heaven with joy to greet thee,
Where no farewell tears are shed.
(The Covington Leader, Dec. 5, 1918)

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