Six years have passed, my loved lost wife,
Since thou wast taken from my breast,
And cradled in thy final rest,
Leaving me lone with grief and strife.

And now I stand upon the sward
That vails thy simple burial-place;
And with a pale and drooping face,
Survey it with a sad regard.

And as I gaze sweep through my brain
Things of the past on wings of gloom,
So that the mosses on thy tomb
Are watered by my tears of pain.

I see thee in the strength of youth,
With beauty in thy face and form,
With all thy feelings pure and warm,
Thy language sweet with artless truth.

Again I see thee sorely tried
Beneath an overwhelming cloud—
Thy freshness gone, thy spirit bowed
By poverty's dark ills allied.

I see thee in that troublous hour
When death smote down our darling child,
Made thee disconsolate and wild,
And me o'erawed by his dread power.

'Mid all I found thee wholly true
Unto thy offspring and to me.
May God, who set thy spirit free,
Console and strengthen me anew.