5

Kindred forgets Thee.
I alone bear the Smart.
The small worm that frets Thee,
Is cold at my heart.

6


Farewell! the world now
Reclaims our first troth,
Claims — till this willow bough
Droop over both.

7

Flowers are springing,
Bright over Thy grave
Merrily singing,
Their song as they wave.

8

Flowers are dying,
Dim over Thy grave
Mournfully sighing,
Their song as they wave.