How strange that One who yesterday
Shed radiance round her sphere,
Thus, in the prime of life and health,
Should slumber on the bier.
How sad that One who cheer'd her home
With love's unvarying grace,
Should leave at hearth-stone and at board
Nought save a vacant place.
The beaming hope that bright and fair
Around her cradle shone,
Made cloudless progress year by year,
With lustre all its own,
While still unselfish and serene
Her daily course she drew,
To every generous impulse warm
To every duty true:
Yet all these pure and hallowed charms
To favor'd mortals given,
That make their loss to earth so great,
Enhance the gain of Heaven.