Part 2 — THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

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 sleepers 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 dressed Above the noble slain; He wrapped the 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 fair 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 nought beyond, O earth! Felicia Dorothea Hemans.