Are drifting now upon some fairer tide—

Their scattered ashes on Hope's pinions rise

And people realms beyond the azure skies!

Then may our faltering footsteps lead

To where fond hearts may never bleed—

Where vanished faces, cherished forms,

Are anchored safe from life's rude storms;

Where strains seraphic, soft and low,

The rapt ear greet, and we shall know

The loved and lost we only see

In visions of sweet Memory!

[Pg 43]

[Pg 43]

A MOTHER'S GRAVE.

The years have passed in ceaseless round

Since first they laid her here to rest

In dreamless sleep beneath the silent mound,

With folded hands upon her gentle breast.

The ivy twines about the crumbling stone,

And Springtime's scented blossoms fling

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