The Breast-Pin
Come, thou dear, thou hallowed treasure,
Make thy home upon my breast,
Till my days have filled their measure,
Till I, too, am gone to rest!
Not because I love your glitter,
Dazzling gold and sparkling stone,
For your charms have dashed with bitter
Life's whole fount for many a one.
Not for these, bright gift, I 'm taking
Thee to be my bosom friend!
'T is for thoughts that thou art waking,
Memory , but at death to end!
That sweet face, so pale and altered,
Painted here, can fancy see,
Every fainting word that faltered
On her lip, I read in thee.
May thy sacred name be spoken
Never to the mortal ear!
For, a dying sister's token ,
I baptize thee, with a tear!
Come, thou dear, thou hallowed treasure,
Make thy home upon my breast,
Till my days have filled their measure,
Till I, too, am gone to rest!
Not because I love your glitter,
Dazzling gold and sparkling stone,
For your charms have dashed with bitter
Life's whole fount for many a one.
Not for these, bright gift, I 'm taking
Thee to be my bosom friend!
'T is for thoughts that thou art waking,
Memory , but at death to end!
That sweet face, so pale and altered,
Painted here, can fancy see,
Every fainting word that faltered
On her lip, I read in thee.
May thy sacred name be spoken
Never to the mortal ear!
For, a dying sister's token ,
I baptize thee, with a tear!
Make thy home upon my breast,
Till my days have filled their measure,
Till I, too, am gone to rest!
Not because I love your glitter,
Dazzling gold and sparkling stone,
For your charms have dashed with bitter
Life's whole fount for many a one.
Not for these, bright gift, I 'm taking
Thee to be my bosom friend!
'T is for thoughts that thou art waking,
Memory , but at death to end!
That sweet face, so pale and altered,
Painted here, can fancy see,
Every fainting word that faltered
On her lip, I read in thee.
May thy sacred name be spoken
Never to the mortal ear!
For, a dying sister's token ,
I baptize thee, with a tear!
Come, thou dear, thou hallowed treasure,
Make thy home upon my breast,
Till my days have filled their measure,
Till I, too, am gone to rest!
Not because I love your glitter,
Dazzling gold and sparkling stone,
For your charms have dashed with bitter
Life's whole fount for many a one.
Not for these, bright gift, I 'm taking
Thee to be my bosom friend!
'T is for thoughts that thou art waking,
Memory , but at death to end!
That sweet face, so pale and altered,
Painted here, can fancy see,
Every fainting word that faltered
On her lip, I read in thee.
May thy sacred name be spoken
Never to the mortal ear!
For, a dying sister's token ,
I baptize thee, with a tear!
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