Written in an Album, After the Lines of a Deceased Friend

Close to the lines that her dear hand had traced,
Who took so soon an angel's form on high--
After her name is my memorial placed
For thee, my friend, and it shall tell thee why.

I find a sweetness where her spirit breathed:
A sacred halo round her name is thrown;
So, with the flowers that here her fingers wreathed
To borrow life from them, I twine my own.

Fresh in thy heart and mine her memory lives,
Fragrant and fair, and thornless in its bloom:
Here with the precious odor that it gives,
I fain my simple offering would perfume.

Then, whatsoe'er the change that comes to me--
Though death or duty put me far away,
These silent leaves may still unfold to thee
The wish of one who was thy friend to-day.

Peace be to thee--long life, and joy, and health
The blest allotment of thy sojourn here;
The portion of a child of God, thy wealth,
When time must close, and earth shall disappear!