NOVEMBER 1836
EVEN so for me a Vision sanctified The sway of Death; long ere mine eyes had seen Thy countenance–the still rapture of thy mien– When thou, dear Sister! wert become Death’s Bride: No trace of pain or languor could abide That change:–age on thy brow was smoothed–thy cold Wan cheek at once was privileged to unfold A loveliness to living youth denied. Oh! if within me hope should e’er decline, The lamp of faith, lost Friend! too faintly burn; 10 Then may that heaven-revealing smile of thine, The bright assurance, visibly return: And let my spirit in that power divine Rejoice, as, through that power, it ceased to mourn.