When the pale wreath is laid upon the tomb,
⁠Love's last fond homage offered to the dead,
⁠And the bereft, with tears and drooping head,
Bid mute farewell on sadly turning home,
Sister and brother, widowed love and friend,
⁠Review, as in a solemn vision then,
⁠Their dear one's life, its bliss and bitter pain,
Its restless hopes now ever at an end.
The common thought lifts them above despair,
⁠One brief thanksgiving is on every tongue:
⁠That faithful heart shall never more be wrung
With cold unkindness or with aching care;
That generous mind no stern rebuffs shall vex;
That busy brain no problems dire perplex.