 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
254
THE SAME: LONG AFTER.
For memories, and prayer, and pious thoughtOf days departed, and the dear ones dead,
Tarring, once more thy sacred walls I sought:
So, to some native spot, some genial bed,
The botanist goes forth to seek and find
His curious fern or lichen; so, my mind
In melancholy pleasure wisely taught
Culls here its rarest weed; with tender care
Gather it up and store it:—years ago
From this old choir a young and loving pair
Went out just wedded; and the glittering show
Of pleasure, wealth, and promise glad and gay,
Pass'd thro' these portals:—God was with you there,
My Father and my Mother!—these were They.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |