• These blossoms, gathered in familiar paths,
    With dear companions now passed out of sight,
    Shall not be laid upon their graves. They live,
    Since love is deathless. Pleasure now nor pride
    Is theirs in mortal wise, but hallowing thoughts
    Will meet the offering, of so little worth,
    Wanting the benison death has made divine.

    "Poems". Book by Lucy Larcom, 1869.