DEAR eyes, so full of kindness for us all,
Of sympathy’ s sweet cheer, of glinting fun,
Of tenderness for creatures weak and small,
And welcomes never failing any one:—
Dear busy hands, to which all work seemed play,
Defeat impossible, and taste a dower,
Making the common things of every day
Unfold to beauty like an opening flower;
Dear heart, whose every beat until the end
Was quick and ardent with affection’ s thrill;
Whose ample chambers sheltered many a friend,
And opened at a touch for others still,—
The world seems colder than it used to be
Since those sweet hands were folded on her breast,
Since the eyes closed in death’ s deep mystery
And that great loving heart was stilled to rest.
But like a star she hovers through our tears,
And the Eternal world, so dim, so fair,
Which holds the secret of our mortal years,
Nearer and friendlier seems now she is there.