Classic Poem

O Thou , whose dim and tearful gaze
Dwells on the shade of blessings gone!
Whose fancy some lost form surveys,
Half-deeming it once more thine own;

O check that shuddering sob, control
That lip all quivering with despair;
The thrillings of the startled soul
That wakes and finds no lov'd one there.

'Tis hard, in life's first wearying stage,
From guiding, soothing souls to part;
To part, unchill'd by grief or age,
Sister from sister, heart from heart!

Yet though no more she share, her love
Thy way of woe still guides and cheers;
And from her cup of bliss above
One drop she mingles with thy tears.

G RIEVE not though Mary's birthday pass'd
Without one joyous rhyme;
When days are bright, and hours fly fast,
Who measures bliss by time?

When grief has dimmed our darkling way,
Such lonely gleams are dear:
But who can mark one happy day,
If happy through the year?

Such sweet forgetfulness be thine!
So ever live and love!
No need of gift, or votive line,
The fond, glad heart to prove.