Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman (1803–1878)

REMEMBRANCERS of happiness! to me

Ye bring sweet thoughts of the year’s purple prime,—

Wild, mingling melodies of bird and bee,

That pour on summer winds their silvery chime,—

And of rich incense, burdening all the air,

From flowers that by the sunny garden wall

Bloomed at your side, nursed into beauty there

By dews and silent showers; but these to all

Ye bring. O, sweeter far than these the spell

Shrined in those fairy urns for me alone!

For me a charm sleeps in each honeyed cell,

Whose power can call back hours of rapture flown;

To the sad heart sweet memories restore,—

Tones, looks, and words of love that may return no more.