Poems (Brown)/The Household Treasure
THE HOUSEHOLD TREASURE.
I had a friend, a joyous friend, Whose heart was pure and free;Whose voice was light and gay in song, As birds on yonder tree.
She called this lowly earth her home; But 'twas not thus, I ween:We could not see the angel hosts, Nor catch the heavenly beam
That on her inner temple shone, Reflecting looks of faith.Daily her lips would utter praise, And her heart express belief.
But one day a shadow flitted O'er this home, so loved and dear;And we missed this household treasure— Vacant was a well-known chair.
We wandered in her garden, We plucked her choicest flowers,And wove them in a sunny wreath To deck her cherished bowers.
We roved the woods of sombre gray, In search of that loved formBut, alas! forever from our side Our joyous friend was gone.
Far down the garden is a grave, Where dark green pine-trees moan,And bright-leaved ivy twines around— "Our Addie" on the stone.
For far away in ether blue, Resounds the voice we love;And sweet the tones, now soft, now loud, "I'm happy here above."