IF in thy glorious home above
Thou still recallest earthly love,
If yet retained a thought may be
Of him, whose heart hath bled for thee;
Remember still how deeply shrined,
Thine image in his joyless mind,
Each well-known scene, each former care,
Forgotten—thou alone art there!
Remember that thine eye-beams light
Hath fled for ever from his sight,
And, with that vanished sunshine lost,
Is every hope he cherished most.
Think that his life, from thee apart,
Is all but weariness of heart,
Each stream, whose music once was dear,
Now murmurs discord to his ear.
Through thee, the morn, whose cloudless rays
Woke him to joy in other days,
Now, in the light of beauty drest,
Brings but new sorrows to his breast.
Through thee, the heavens are dark to him,
The sun's meridian blaze is dim;
And harsh were e'en the bird of eve,
But that her song still loves to grieve.
All it hath been, his heart forgets,
So altered by its long regrets;
Each wish is changed, each hope is o'er,
And joy's light spirit wakes no more.