Sunshine and gladness may smilingly wear;
But for the broken and desolate heart
Springtime, alas! has no balm to impart.
Tones that are hushed it awakens no more;
“Friends that are gone” it can never restore;
Yet e’en to the mourner one hope it may bring,
’Tis the type of Eternity’s glorious spring.
1829. E. P. K.