They grew in beauty, side by side,
They filled one home with glee,--
Their graves are severed far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.
The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;
She had each folded flower in sight,--
Where are those dreamers now?
One, 'midst the forests of the West,
By a dark stream is laid,--
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.
The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one;
He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.
One sleeps where southern vines are dressed
Above the noble slain;
He wrapped his colors round his breast,
On a blood-red field of Spain.
And one,--o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves, by soft winds fanned;
She faded 'midst Italian flowers,
The last of that bright band.
And parted thus they rest, who played
Beneath the same green tree;
Whose voices mingled as they prayed
Around one parent knee!
They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheered with song the hearth,--
Alas for love! if _thou_ wert all,
And naught beyond, O earth!
_Felicia Hemans._
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