IN THE ANGELS’ KEEP.
Let me not look on the dear, dead face,
I would not remember her so;
For her eyes are closed, and her hands are still,
And her lips can’t speak, you know!
Let me remember her just as she lived,
And just as I’ll meet her above—
With eyes that could talk and a touch that could soothe,
And a heart that was full of love.
Let me remember her not as one dead,
But as one that has fallen asleep;
She will wake in the morning, I know, at my call,
Awake in the angels’ keep!