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poems.
55
THE HOUSEHOLD TREASURE.
I had a friend, a joyous friend,
Whose heart was pure and free;
Whose voice was light and gay in song,
As birds on yonder tree.

She called this lowly earth her home;
But 'twas not thus, I ween:
We could not see the angel hosts,
Nor catch the heavenly beam

That on her inner temple shone,
Reflecting looks of faith.
Daily her lips would utter praise,
And her heart express belief.

But one day a shadow flitted
O'er this home, so loved and dear;
And we missed this household treasure—
Vacant was a well-known chair.