'"They came--they pressed the coffin lid Above my Caroline, And then, I felt, for ever hid My sister's face from mine! There was one moment's wildered start-- One pang remembered well-- When first from my unhardened heart The tears of anguish fell: That swell of thought which seemed to fill The bursting heart, the gushing eye, While fades all _present_ good or ill Before the shades of things gone by. All else seems blank--the mourning march, The proud parade of woe, The passage 'neath the churchyard arch, The crowd that met the show. My place or thoughts amid the train I strive to recollect, in vain-- I could not think or see: I cared not whither I was borne: And only felt that death had torn My Caroline from me. '"Slowly and sadly, o'er her grave, The organ peals its passing stave, And, to its last dark dwelling-place, The corpse attending mourners bear, While, o'er it bending, many a face 'Mongst young companions shows a tear. I think I glanced toward the crowd That stood in musing silence by, And even now I hear the sound Of some one's voice amongst them cry-- 'I am the Resurrection and the Life-- He who believes in me shall never die!' '"Long years have never worn away The unnatural strangeness of that day, When I beheld--upon the plate Of grim death's mockery of state-- That well-known word, that long-loved name, Now but remembered like the dream Of half-forgotten hymns divine, My sister's name--my Caroline! Down, down, they lowered her, sad and slow, Into her narrow house below: And deep, indeed, appeared to be That one glimpse of eternity, Where, cut from life, corruption lay, Where beauty soon should turn to clay! Though scarcely conscious, hotly fell The drops that spoke my last farewell; And wild my sob, when hollow rung The first cold clod above her flung, When glitter was to turn to rust, 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!' '"How bitter seemed that moment when, Earth's ceremonies o'er, We from the filled grave turned again To leave her evermore; And, when emerging from the cold Of damp, sepulchral air, As I turned, listless to behold The evening fresh and fair, How sadly seemed to smile the face Of the descending sun! How seemed as if his latest race Were with that evening run! There sank his orb behind the grove Of my ancestral home, With heaven's unbounded vault above To canopy his tomb. Yet lingering sadly and serene, As for his last farewell, To shine upon those wild woods green O'er which he'd loved to dwell.