trying months of her later life—the lady to whom, in May 1838, she addressed the following poem:—
TO MRS.
My own kind friend, long years may pass
Ere thou and I shall meet,
Long years may pass ere I again
Shall sit beside thy feet.
My favourite place!—I could look up,
And meet in weal or woe
The kindest looks I ever knew—
That I shall ever know.
How many hours have pass'd away
In that accustom'd place,
Thy answer lighting, ere it came,
That kind and thoughtful face.
How many sorrows, many cares,
Have sought thee like a shrine!
Thoughts that have shunn'd all other thoughts,
Were trusted safe to thine.
How patient, and how kind thou wert!
How gentle in thy words!
Never a harsh one came to mar
The spirit's tender chords.
In hours of bitter suffering,
Thy low, sweet voice was near;
And every day it grew more kind,
And every day more dear.
The bitter feelings were assuaged,
The angry were subdued,
Ever thy gentle influence
Call'd back my better mood.
Am I too happy now?—I feel
Sometimes as if I were;
The future that before me lies,
Has many an unknown care.
I cannot choose but marvel too.
That this new love can be
