Beautiful pansies, ye must know
Your sacred mission here,
For how could otherwise ye grow
So sweet and full of cheer?
Your watchful love we can't o'errate,
As, lingering here in tears,
Fond memory brings the precious weight
Of friendship's golden years.
Ye are the symbols, pure and sweet,
Of heartsease and of life,
Through which our thought may dare retreat
From pain and death so rife,
To realms of light and peace above,
From earth's alloy set free,
Wherein abide immortal love
And deathless ministry.
But still, while we your comfort seek,
Our hearts will wildly yearn
To hear once more the loved one speak,
Once more the form discern.
At Woodlawn Cemetery, May, 1886.