Her friend and mine of scenes and times long past;

And in the shadows of the quiet room,

It seemed to me an angel form was cast.

I saw, and yet my friend seemed not to see

The face familiar, with the gentle eyes,

Whose presence sanctified the past for me,

And made for him a glorious paradise.

I felt the pressure of a vanished hand

Upon my own, and heard a soft robe sweep—

The same has floated from the spirit-land,

And often trailed the chamber where I sleep.

I strove to break the spell that bound his heart,

That held his spirit as a bondsman tied,

When like a rose that shakes its leaves apart,

Her garments rustled close his chair beside.

And yet he knew it not. The angel face

Bent close above his own. So doth the moon

Sometimes, unseen, bend from her heavenly place,

To kiss a flower that falls asleep too soon.

“Awake, my friend,” I said, “too soon you sleep;

An angel figure stands beside your chair,

And I alone the sacred vigil keep.”

But as he woke, she vanished into air.

“O, friend of mine, and friend of hers,” I cried,

“A hallowed presence is so soon forgot.

She walked on earth an angel by your side,

The same as now, and yet you knew it not.”