Whom angels capture for the skies
At life's uncertain close.
I muse again, with loving thought,
Of a sinless wife long dead,
And live again our buried past,
By an angel presence led.
I view again the pleasing scene
Of a school house on the hill,
Where happy scholars daily met,
Whose law was the teacher's will.
I see again the old armchair
Where the Master daily sat
With watchful eye and helpful hand,
Yet sleepless as a cat.
I hear again the sleepless hum
Of voices low and sweet,
Of students pouring o'er the books
With wisdom's germs replete.
Amid that happy, guileless throng,
There was one peerless face