A glory for thy brow! Dreams, dreams!—The fire
Burns faint within me. Yet I leave my name—
As a deep thrill may linger on the lyre
When its full chords are hush’d—awhile to live,
And one day haply in thy heart revive
Sad thoughts of me. I leave it, with a sound,
A spell o’er memory, mournfully profound;
I leave it, on my country’s air to dwell—
Say proudly yet—“’Twas hers who loved me well!”