ON THE DEATH OF MISS HANNAH ADAMS.
She was the author of a "View of Religious Opinions," "History of the Jews," and other works. She died, respected and beloved, at the age of seventy-six; and was the first who was buried in the Mount Auburn Cemetery, in Boston.
Gentle and true of heart! I see thee still,
Abstractly bending o'er the storied tome,
While the deep lines of meditation steal,
Unfrowning, o'er thy brow. I see thee still,
Thine eye upraised at friendship's sacred smile,
Pouring the heart's warm treasures freely forth,
In guileless confidence. Methinks I hear
That eloquence, which sometimes bore thy soul
High o'er its prison-house of timid thought,
And round the ancient people of thy God,
And on the hill of Zion, joyed to bind
Its choicest wreath. Thy stainless life was laid
A gift on virtue's altar, and thy mind,
Commingling wisdom with humility,
Passed on its sheltered pilgrimage in peace,
Lonely—but not forgot. When thou didst mourn
One generation of thy friends laid low,
Another came. Most fair and youthful forms,
Such as man's love doth worship, in the hour
Of its idolatry, did turn aside
To seat them at thy feet, and strew thy home
With offerings of fresh flowers. 'Twas sweet to see
Beauty, and grace, and wealth, such tribute pay
