Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith (1806–1893)

I DREAMED last night, that I myself did lay

Within the grave, and after stood and wept.

My spirit sorrowed where its ashes slept!

’T was a strange dream, and yet methinks it may

Prefigure that which is akin to truth.

How sorrow we o’er perished dreams of youth,

High hopes and aspirations doomed to be

Crushed and o’ermastered by earth’s destiny!

Fame, that the spirit loathing turns to ruth,—

And that deluding faith, so loath to part,

That earth will shrine for us one kindred heart!

O, ’t is the ashes of such things that wring

Tears from the eyes; hopes like to these depart,

And we bow down in dread, o’ershadowed by Death’s wing.