Will to thy fond heart be as amulets
Held there with life and love. And weep not thus!
Mother! dear sister! kindest, gentlest ones!
Be comforted that now I weep no more
For the glad earth and all the golden light
Whence I depart,
No! God hath purified my spirit's eye,
And in the folds of this consummate rose
I read bright prophecies. I see not there,
Dimly and mournfully, the word "farewell"
On the rich petals traced: No—in soft veins
And characters of beauty, I can read—
"Look up, look heavenward!"
Blessed God of Love!
I thank thee for these gifts, the precious links
Whereby my spirit unto thee is drawn!
I thank thee that the loveliness of earth
Higher than earth can raise me! Are not these
But germs of things unperishing, that bloom
Beside th' immortal streams? Shall I not find
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IN A ROOM OF SICKNESS.
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