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 forest 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 drest
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 play'd
Beneath the same green tree;
Whose voices mingled as they pray'd
Around the parent knee.
They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheer'd with song the hearth!--
Alas! for love, if _thou_ wert all,
And naught beyond, O earth!
_Felicia Dorothea Hemans._