NOT DEAD, BUT CHANGED.
Reading edition
I SAT and mused o'er all the years gone by; Of friends departed, and of others going; And dwelt upon their memories with a sigh, Till floods of tears, their hidden springs o'erflowing, Betrayed my grief. Soon, a bright light above me, Voices saying, "We're near thee yet to love thee," Dispelled my tears. I raised my drooping head, And asked, "Who, who,—the dead?" When the angelic lost around me ranged Whispered within my ear, "Not dead, but changed."