Were worlds between, his soul to mine would fly.

Oh, shame! to think a heap of paltry metal
Should overbalance manhood's noblest graces;
A film of gold had gilt his worth and honor,
Warming to smiles the coldness of their faces;
Gentle to me, they rise in condemnation,
And plead with me than words more powerfully.
Oh! well I love them--but they have wealth and station
To fill their hearts, and he has only me.

But oh, my roses, how their great pure faces
Beseech me as they bend from sculptured column.
So with my wet cheek closely pressed against them,
I listen to their pleadings sweet and solemn.
Oh, Memory, if an hour of gloom and grieving
I here have known, that hour before me set;
But all the peace and joy I am leaving,
In mercy, Memory, let me forget.

Oh, home! if here a frown has ever chilled me,
Let it now rise and darken on my sight.
If a harsh word or look has ever grieved me,
Let me remember that harsh word to-night.
But all the tender words, the fond caressing,
The loving smiles that daily I have met,
The patient mother love, God's crowning blessing,
In mercy, Memory, let me forget.

Here she has kissed me with fond looks of greeting;