"Foresworn, indeed, to me that veil,
Because I only love the dead!"
She stood one moment statue-still,
And, musing, spoke in undertone:
"The living love may colder grow;
The dead is safe with God alone!"
The following poem to his sister was sent to her by Whittier, with a copy of his book, "The Supernaturalism of New England," which consisted of poems relating to the superstition and folk-lore prevalent in New England. It was written in 1847, and is full of early memories and tender thoughts:—
Dear sister! while the wise and sage
Turn coldly from my playful page,
And count it strange that ripened age