No dark remembrance that he fain would blot,
Troubling the tear? If there were no kind deed
Omitted, no sweet, healing word of love
Expected, yet unspoken; no light tone
That struck discordant on the shivering nerve,
For which the weeper fain would rend the tomb
To cry, “Forgive.” O, let him kneel and praise
God amid all his grief.
Mrs. Sigourney.
Remember me—not, I entreat,