A spirit, ’twixt whose spotless charms, and thee,
Hangs but the veil of Time, behind which, soon thou’lt see.
Till then, look upward to her home of light—
’Twill chase the shadows from thy lonely hearth,
And think of her, as of a being bright—
Still thy “beloved,” though not now of earth!
Follow the traces of her heavenward feet,
And soon in perfect love, to part no more, ye’ll meet.
Cedar Brook, Plainfield, N. J., 1841.