To E.C.S.
to the memory of her sister

Dear sister! we were little girls
When we were standing by,
With eyes brim full of melting pearls,
To see our father die.
Round our wet cheeks the ringlets curled,
When last he kissed both of us;
And then we had not in the world
A parent left to love us.
But, from that memorable day,
Have we not loved each other?
And have we not loved thee?-O say,
Dear mother of our mother!
For, then it was thine arms were flung
Around the orphan girls,
And to thy bosom have we clung,
And thou hast combed our curls,
And thou hast laid us in our bed,
And knelt in prayer above us.-
Blessings be on thine aged head!
It showed how thou didst love us.
Sister, when thou wast made a wife
And I was left her only,
I thought I never, in my life,
Could feel again so lonely.
Yet soon I learned to look upon
Thy husband as my brother;
And, O how bright that morning shone,
When I saw thee a mother!
That was the last of all the suns
That will look bright to me;
The loved,-the lost,-the buried ones
Must now make room for thee!
One more look, ere thou goest to rest!
And let me see thee so,-
Thine infant lying on thy breast,-
A rose-bud on the snow.
It weeps,-my dear dead sister, now
Thou canst not hear its moan,-
One kiss upon this marble brow!
O now I am alone!