312 
MRS. SOUTHEY. 
Sweet air, sweet flowers, sweet social looks !— 
Dear friends !—young, happy hearts 1 
How now ! what! all alone am I? 
Come they with cruel mockery, 
Like shadows to depart? 
Ay, shadows all—gone every face 
I loved to look upon— 
Hushed every strain I loved to fiear, 
Or sounding in a distant ear— 
“ All gone !—all gone !—all gone !” 
Some far away in other lands— 
In this—far worse than dead— 
Some in their graves laid quietly— 
One, slumb’ring in the deep, deep sea—» 
All gone !—all lost!—all fled ! 
And here am I—-I live and breathe, 
And stand, as then I stood, 
Beside my little dainty flower— 
But now , in what an altered hour; 
In what an altered mood ! 
And yet I love to linger here— 
To inhale this od’rous breath— 
(Faint as a whisper from the tomb,) 
To gaze upon this pallid bloom 
As on the face of Death. 
