Though footsteps of loved ones may thrill us with pleasure,
And gladden the hearts that are sore,
Our spirits more fondly the memory treasure
Of the step that shall thrill us no more.
Though sweet are the tones of the tender affection
That cheer the sad spirits they thrill,
Yet sweet through our souls rings the dear recollection
Of the tones of the voice that is still.
Though fragrant the perfume of flowers we have gathered
From gardens of pleasure or love,
Oh! sweeter the fragrance of flowers that have withered
But to bloom in the gardens above.
Oh! tender the song that the birdling is singing
Of melody filling the air;
But sweeter, the music through memory ringing
Of a joy that has changed to despair!
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