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Fondly to linger o'er your lovely rest, As o'er the cheek's warm glow, And the sweet breathings low, Of babes that grew and faded on her breast;

If then the dove-like tone Of those faint murmurs gone, O'er her sick sense too piercingly return; If for the soft bright hair And brow and bosom fair, And life, now dust, her soul too deeply yearn:

O gentle forms, entwined Like tendrils, which the wind May wave, so clasped, but never can unlink! Send from your calm profound A still small voice, a sound Of hope, forbidding that lone heart to sink!

By all the pure meek mind In your pale beauty shrined,