Still youthful and truthful, and talented too,
Though years have elapsed since she passed from our view;
E'en in Summer midst roses in beauty and bloom,
She faded away, and was borne to the tomb.

Weston, March 5, 1852.




FOR MY FRIEND MRS. R.


When writing to you, friend, a subject I'd find
In which there's both pleasure and profit combined,
And though what I've chosen may pain in review,
Yet still there's strange mingling of pleasure there too.
Then let us go back many years that are past,
And glance at those days _much too happy to last_.
I have seen thee, my friend, when around thy bright hearth
Not a seat was found vacant, but gladness and mirth
Kept high holiday there, and many a time
Were mingled in pastime my children with thine.
I've looked in again, the destroyer had come,
And changed the whole aspect of that happy home.
He entered that dwelling, and rudely he tore
From the arms of his mother, her most cherished flower.
Thy heart seemed then broken, oh! how couldst thou bear
To live in this world, and thy idol not here?
Oh! heart-stricken mother, thou didst not then know