Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/136

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Too much! for all about thee spread, I feel the memory of the dead, And almost linger for the feet That never more my step shall meet.

The looks, the smiles, all vanish'd now, Follow me where thy roses blow; The echoes of kind household-words Are with me 'midst thy singing birds.

Till my heart dies, it dies away In yearnings for what might not stay; For love which ne'er deceived my trust, For all which went with "dust to dust!"

What now is left me, but to raise From thee, lorn spot! my spirit's gaze, To lift, through tears, my straining eye Up to my Father's house on high?