Two Roses On One Slender Spray In

Beyond This Vale Of Tears There Is A Life Above. Unmeasured By The Flight Of Years; And All That Life Is Love.

Bliss In Possession Will Not Last; Remembered Joys Are Never Past.

Night Is The Time To Weep,to Wet With Unseen Tearsthose Graves Of Memory Where Sleepthe Joys Of Other Years.

While Rose-buds Scarcely Show'd Their Hue, But Coyly Linger'd On The Thorn.

Prayer Is The Soul's Sincere Desire, Uttered Or Unexpressed, The Motion Of A Hidden Fire That Trembles In The Breast. Prayer Is The Burden Of A Sigh, The Falling Of A Tear, The Upward Glancing Of An Eye When None But God Is Near.