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The seven that sat round them then,
Their pride & hope & cares —
My sisters' light & social glee;
My brother's manly airs.
Sweet scene! & do I weep! what change
Is wrought in sixty years!
How many happy hours we've known!
How many days of tears!
That home & hearth is desolate,
And those who gathered there
Have left it for another home,
Beyond earth's change & care.
This world is but a stormy one,
And April day at best —
Why should I dread the home they've found
And fear with them to rest?
Tho' all I lov'd have pass'd away,
Yet would I not depart,
How strangely does the love of life
Cling to the human heart!

May 7th 1843 T. B.

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