Still would she wander forth with noiseless tread,
And by a secret influence, spirit-led,
Seek the same spot to which her step would stray
With those she loved—but now, O, where are they?
At that soft, holy hour, in days gone by,
There might be seen that joyous family,
Husband, and wife, and child—’twas all so fair
Where all was love, it made an Eden there!
Retired from all the stirring scenes of life,
Who look’d so happy as that fair young wife?