In Memory of Mrs. Adeline R. O'Brien,
ON VISITING HER HOUSE AFTER HER DEATH.
SHE is not here! Alas, she is not here!
Yet all still breathes and speaks of her. Her sweet
And living presence is in every thing.
The very breeze, deep-laden with the soft,
Rich perfume of her own, her much-loved flowers,
Seems murmuring with a sigh her cherished name.
Through the lone chambers of her darkened home
I wander oft, and pine to greet once more
Her beauteous form now mingling with the dust.
The shadow of deep gloom hath settled round
The holy hearth where joy was wont to ring.
The lovely Spring-time is again on earth,
Yet all still breathes and speaks of her. Her sweet
And living presence is in every thing.
The very breeze, deep-laden with the soft,
Rich perfume of her own, her much-loved flowers,
Seems murmuring with a sigh her cherished name.
Through the lone chambers of her darkened home
I wander oft, and pine to greet once more
Her beauteous form now mingling with the dust.
The shadow of deep gloom hath settled round
The holy hearth where joy was wont to ring.
The lovely Spring-time is again on earth,
