Poems (Rice)/To Mrs. L———
TO MRS, L———.
AGAIN in the temple, sweet lady; but why, May I ask, art thou clad in that sorrowing dress? I never had learned the destroyer came nigh To take from thine arms what thou lovedst to caress; 'Mid the pause of responses, again and again I fancied I caught a grief-stricken sigh, Thrilling alike my own bosom with pain, While words from the pastor ascended on high.
Again in the temple, sweet lady; O, say, What changes came o'er thee to sadden thy brow? When sympathy moves me, its voice I obey, Thy pardon I crave for intruding just now: This place, to thee sacred, so precious to all, Has a charm, a repose, which I cannot define; 'T will ever the past and its pictures recall, Uniting the heart with the loved, the divine.