Page:Poems (1853).djvu/191

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For thee—that hours of deep distress,
 And days of gloom with kindness lit,
Till half I blessed the bitterness
 That gave me thee to sweeten it.

For thee—that when, despairing long,
 I said, “No friend has earth for me,”
Didst bid the tones die on my tongue,
 And I could utter, “only thee.”

For thee—that when my mother earth
 Shall call me to her sheltering breast,
Of all I know wilt weep alone
 Above my nameless place of rest.

But see! her wings refuse to fly;
 Her chords are harsh from silence long;
Alas! thy gentle sorcery
 Hath summoned but the ghost of Song.

She hovers o’er her living tomb,
 She seeks once more her grave and chain,
As spectres haunt the midnight gloom:
 Sweet friend, awake her not again.