And illumines the way that my footsteps may tread

Unerringly where her love for me led—

Along the straight path that she tried to reveal

As she taught me, and spun on the old spinning-wheel!

Yes, the finger of Time has furrowed the brow,

And silvered the hair, yet I dream of her now

As when, long ago, I heard as a child

The words of her love that my sorrows beguiled;

And this relic she used but brings back anew

The morning of life, that was fresh with the dew

Distilled from the heart, as she taught me to kneel

Right down by her side, and the old spinning-wheel!

[Pg 33]

[Pg 33]

"RESTLAND."

WRITTEN IN THE DANVILLE (KY.) CEMETERY.

Within thy hallowed precincts on this sweet autumnal day,

We're wandering 'neath the cedar and the pine,

Where rests the sacred dust of loved ones passed away,

And bleeding hearts a melancholy pleasure find.

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