I see thee still! thou art not dead,
Though dust is mingled with thy form;
The broken sunbeam hath not shed
The final rainbow on the storm:
In visions of the midnight deep,
Thine accents through my bosom thrill
Till joy’s fond impulse bids me weep,—
For, wrapt in thought, I see thee still!
I see thee still,—that cheek of...
I think that we retain of our dead friends
And absent ones no general portraiture;
That perfect memory does not long endure,
But fades and fades until our own life ends.
Unconsciously, forgetfulness attends
That grief for which there is no other cure,
But leaves of each lost one some record sure,—
A look, an act, a tone,—something that...
Under the apple bough
Love, in a dream of leaves,
Dreamed we of love, as now,—
All that gives beauty or grieves.
Over the sad world then
Curved like the sky that bough;
I was in heaven then,—
You are in heaven now.
Remembrance has a Rear and Front —
'Tis something like a House —
It has a Garret also
For Refuse and the Mouse.
Besides the deepest Cellar
That ever Mason laid —
Look to it by its Fathoms
Ourselves be not pursued —
Night closes round me, and wild threatening forms
Clasp me with icy arms and chain me down,
And bind upon my brow a cypress crown,
Dewy with tears, and heaven frowns dark with storms;
But the one glorious memory of thee
Rises upon my path to guide and bless...
