Dear one, mine own! art gone
From young life's happy places,
To the dark grave and lone—
Death's cold and drear embraces!
Loosed are the silver strings
Of thy heart's ringing lyre—
Are broken thy wild wings,
Spirit of love and fire!
No, I feel hovering near,
Thy presence mild and tender,
My heart looks in thine eyes so dear,
And thrills at their soft splendor.
The dreams I dream are thine
When come my sweetest slumbers;
No melody is so divine
As memories of thy numbers.
Why art thou near my soul
Yet flying my fond vision?
Eluding yet love's sweet control,
Yet raining dreams elysian?
Oh angel, who before us
Art summoned home to heaven,
Still, still, oh linger o'er us,
Till we too are forgiven;
'Till we in holiest songs
Repeat each sweetest duty,
In that pure air where Heaven prolongs
Thy gentle life of beauty.