Page:In memoriam (IA inmemoriam00tennrich).pdf/80



we forget the widow'd hour And look on Spirits breathed away, As on a maiden in the day When first she wears her orange-flower!

When crown'd with blessing she doth rise To take her latest leave of home, And hopes and light regrets that come Make April of her tender eyes;

And doubtful joys the father move, And tears are on the mother's face, As parting with a long embrace She enters other realms of love;

Her office there to rear, to teach, Becoming as is meet and fit A link among the days, to knit The generations each with each;