Page:Records of Woman.pdf/62

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With thee to listen, while the tones of song Swept ev'n as part of our sweet air along, To listen silently;—with thee to gaze On forms, the deified of olden days, This had been joy enough;—and hour by hour, From its glad well-springs drinking life and power, How had my spirit soar'd, and made its fame A glory for thy brow!—Dreams, dreams!—the fire Burns faint within me. Yet I leave my name— As a deep thrill may linger on the lyre When its full chords are hush'd—awhile to live, And one day haply in thy heart revive Sad thoughts of me:—I leave it, with a sound, A spell o'er memory, mournfully profound, I leave it, on my country's air to dwell,— Say proudly yet—"'Twas her's who lov'd me well!"