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THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
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When the angels join, in a countless throng,
To praise the glory of God in song!
O soul! how long will this prisoning clay
Confine thy longings for flight away,
To tune thy voice in praise with them,
And dwell in the light of His diadem?




THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
Peace! peace to her slumbers! she too is at rest,
Where her heart shall know sorrow no more;
We have placed, sadly placed the green sod on her breast,
As we laid it on others before;
Yet afar are the graves of our own kindred band,
And the soft tears of sorrow we shed,
As our thoughts sadly fly to a far distant land,
Where slumber our earlier dead!

O! fair isle of Erin! thou emerald isle,
To our hearts is thy memory dear,
Though our lips have forgot their accustomed smile,
And our eyes since shed many a tear.
We have treasured a thousand kindred ties,
We .have dream'd of thy skies of blue,
We have thought of thy children's affectionate eyes,
And their high deeds of daring too.