IN MEMORY OF PAUL L. RICE 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. -AUNT JENNIE.
(The Covington Leader, Dec. 5, 1918)