THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
Forget them not!—tho' now their name
Be but a mournful sound,
Tho' by the hearth its utterance claim
A stillness round.
Tho' for their sakes this earth no more
As it hath been may be,
And shadows, never marked before,
Brood o'er each tree;
And tho' their image dim the sky,
Yet, yet forget them not!
Nor, where their love and life went by,
Forsake the spot!
They have a breathing influence there,
A charm, not elsewhere found;
Sad—yet it sanctifies the air,
The stream—the ground.
