  [Image unavailable.] Mrs. Hemans They grew in beauty side by side, They fill’d one home with glee; Their graves are sever’d far and wide By mount and stream and sea. The same fond mother bent at night O’er each fair sleeping brow; She had each folded flower in sight: Where are those dreamers now? One ’midst the forests of the West By a dark stream is laid; The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar-shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one; He lies where pearls lie deep; He was the loved of all, yet none O’er his low bed may weep! One sleeps where southern vines are drest Above the noble slain; He wrapt his colors round his breast On a blood-red field of Spain. And one—o’er her the myrtle showers Its leaves, by soft winds fann’d; The last of that bright band. And parted thus they rest who play’d Beneath the same green tree; Whose voices mingled as they pray’d Around one parent knee! They that with smiles lit up the hall And cheer’d with mirth the hearth; Alas, for love! if thou wert all, And naught beyond, O Earth! —Felicia Dorothea Hemans. |
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