Before the mind completely understood
That mighty truth—how happy are the good!—
“E’en when her light forsook him, it bequeathed
Ennobling sorrow; and her memory breathed
A sweetness that survived her living days
As odorous scents outlast the censer’s blaze.
“Or if a trouble dimmed their golden joy,
’Twas outward dross, and not infused alloy:
Their home knew but affection’s looks and speech—
A little Heaven, above dissension’s reach.