WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM, AFTER THE LINES OF A DECEASED FRIEND.

Close to the lines that her dear hand had traced,

Who took so soon an angel's form on high —

After her name is my memorial placed

For thee, my friend, and it shall tell thee why.

I find a sweetness where her spirit breathed:

A sacred halo round her name is thrown;

So, with the flowers that here her fingers wreathed

To borrow life from them, I twine my own.

Fresh in thy heart and mine her memory lives,

Fragrant and fair, and thornless in its bloom:

Here with the precious odor that it gives,

I fain my simple offering would perfume.

Then, whatsoe'er the change that comes to me —

Though death or duty put me far away,

These silent leaves may still unfold to thee

The wish of one who was thy friend to-day.

Peace be to thee — long life, and joy, and health

The blest allotment of thy sojourn here;

The portion of a child of God, thy wealth,

When time must close, and earth shall disappear!