’Tis sweet amid the mountain pines to hear the south winds sigh,
More sweet than these and all beside was the loving, low reply.
The little hand I held in mine held all I had of life,
To mould its better destiny and soothe to sleep its strife.
’Tis said that angels watch o’er men, commissioned from above;
My angel walked with me on earth, and gave to me her love.
Ah! dearest wife, my heart is stirred, my eyes are dim with tears—
I think upon the loving faith of all these bygone years,
For now we stand upon this spot, as in that dewy morn,
With the bloom upon the alder and the tassel on the corn.