The death-mist swims before his eyes
As toward the well-known spot he flies,
Where every fond affection lies.—
Mourn ye, because to home restored
Woman's white arms enwrap her lord,
While tears and smiles with varying grace,
Float o'er his cherub offspring's face?
—Yet on his path of toil and wo
The pilgrim from his shrine must go,
The ship before the tempest strain,
The warrior seek the field again,
But he, whose flesh the tomb hath found,
Whose spirit soars the ethereal round,
From him hath change and sorrow fled,—
—Why mourn ye then the righteous dead?—
REMEMBER ME.
When morning from the damps of night
Beams o'er the eye in rosy light,
And calls thee forth with smile benign;
Ah think!—whose heart responds to thine,
And still with sympathy divine
Remember me.
When gentle twilight, pure and calm
Comes leaning on Reflection's arm,
When o'er the throng of cares and woes
Her veil of sober tint she throws
Wooing the spirit to repose,
Remember me.
