Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 25 1829.pdf/10



Thou hast heard many sounds, thou hearth, Deserted now by all! Voices at eve here met in mirth, Which eve may ne'er recall. Youth's buoyant step, and Woman's tone, And Childhood's laughing glee, And song, and prayer, have well been known, Hearth of the Dead! to thee.

Thou hast heard blessings fondly pour'd    Upon the infant-head, As if in every fervent word The living soul were shed: Thou hast seen partings—such as bear The bloom from Life away— Alas! for Love in changeful air, Where nought beloved can stay!

Here, by the restless bed of Pain, The vigil hath been kept, Till sunrise, bright with Hope in vain, Burst forth on eyes that wept: Here hath been felt the hush, the gloom, The breathless influence shed Through the dim dwelling, from the room Wherein reposed the dead.

The seat left void, the missing face, Have here been mark'd and mourn'd; And Time hath fill'd the vacant place, And Gladness hath return'd: Till from the narrowing household chain The links dropp'd, one by one; And homeward hither o'er the main Came the Spring-birds alone.

Is there not cause then—cause for thought, Fix'd eye, and lingering tread, Where, with their thousand mysteries fraught, Ev'n lowliest hearts have bled? Where, in its ever-haunting thirst For draughts of purer day, Man's soul, with fitful strength, hath burst The clouds that wrapt its way?

Holy to human nature seems The long-forsaken spot! To deep affections, tender dreams, Hopes of a brighter lot! Therefore in silent reverence here, Hearth of the Dead! I stand, Where Joy and Sorrow, Smile and Tear, Have link'd one kindred band.