131
Thy light of love is on my path,
Thy voice is in the summer breeze;
And all of beauty, young life hath,
Is in thine hallowed reveries.
Thy voice is in the summer breeze;
And all of beauty, young life hath,
Is in thine hallowed reveries.
I trace the lines once traced by thee,
That hand is mouldering, but the thought
Beams through death's cold obscurity,
With every tenderest feeling fraught.
That hand is mouldering, but the thought
Beams through death's cold obscurity,
With every tenderest feeling fraught.
I fear not the dark voiceless tomb,
It is the spot that shields thy youth;
And there the guardians of thy doom
Wait the soft forms of hope and truth.
It is the spot that shields thy youth;
And there the guardians of thy doom
Wait the soft forms of hope and truth.
There sleeps thy perished heart, and there
My funeral anthem oft shall rise,
The offering of affection's tear,
Her best and holiest sympathies.
My funeral anthem oft shall rise,
The offering of affection's tear,
Her best and holiest sympathies.
Cold as my hopes, thy silent grave—
Lone as my fate, that unshared spot—
Where foreign flowers now o'er thee wave
Entombed by hands that knew thee not.
Lone as my fate, that unshared spot—
Where foreign flowers now o'er thee wave
Entombed by hands that knew thee not.
