| Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912. |
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| Thomas William Parsons. 1819–1892 |
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| 143. Her Epitaph |
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| THE HANDFUL here, that once was Mary's earth, | |
| Held, while it breathed, so beautiful a soul, | |
| That, when she died, all recognized her birth, | |
| And had their sorrow in serene control. | |
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| "Not here! not here!" to every mourner's heart | 5 |
| The wintry wind seemed whispering round her bier; | |
| And when the tomb-door opened, with a start | |
| We heard it echoed from within,—"Not here!" | |
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| Shouldst thou, sad pilgrim, who mayst hither pass, | |
| Note in these flowers a delicater hue, | 10 |
| Should spring come earlier to this hallowed grass, | |
| Or the bee later linger on the dew,— | |
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| Know that her spirit to her body lent | |
| Such sweetness, grace, as only goodness can; | |
| That even her dust, and this her monument, | 15 |
| Have yet a spell to stay one lonely man,— | |
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| Lonely through life, but looking for the day | |
| When what is mortal of himself shall sleep, | |
| When human passion shall have passed away, | |
| And Love no longer be a thing to weep. | 20 |
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