verse the thoughts and feelings of which their life

was the expression:

Two friends within one grave we place,

United in our tears,

Sisters, scarce parted for the space
Of more than eighty years;

And she, whose bier is borne to-day
The one the last to go,

Bears with her thoughts that force their way
Above the moment's woe :

Thoughts of the varied human life
Spread o'er that field of time,
The toil, the passion, and the strife,
The virtue and the crime:
Yet 'mid the long tumultuous scene,
The image on our mind

Of these dear women rests serene
In happy bounds confined.

Within one undisturbed abode

Their presence seems to dwell,

From which continual pleasures flowed,
And countless graces fell;

Not unbecoming this our age

Of decorative forms,

Yet simple as the hermitage

Exposed to Nature's storms.

Our English grandeur on the shelf
Deposed its decant gloom:
And every pride unloosed itself

Within that modest room;

Where none were sad and few were dull,

And each one said his best,

And beauty was most beautiful

With vanity at rest.

Brightly the day's discourse rolled on,
Still casting on the shore
Memorial pearls of times by-gone

And worthies now no more.

And little tales of long ago,

Took meaning from those lips, Wise chroniclers of joy and woe, And eyes without eclipse.

No taunt or scoff obscured the wit
That there rejoiced to reign;

They never would have laughed at it
If it had carried pain.

There needless scandal, e'en though true,
Provoked no bitter smile,

And even men-of-fashion grew

Benignant for awhile.

Not that there lacked the nervous scorn

At every public wrong,

Not that a friend was left forlorn

When victim of the strong;

Free words expressing generous blood
No nice punctilio weighed,

For deep an earnest womanhood
Their reason underlaid.

As generations onward came,

They loved from all to win

Revival of the sacred flame

That glowed their hearts within •

While others in time's greedy mesh

The faded garlands flung,

Their hearts went out and gathered fresh Affections from the young.

Farewell, dear Ladies! in your loss

We feel the past recede,

The gap, our hands could almost cross, Is now a gulf indeed.

Ye, and the days in which your claims
And charms were early known,
Lose substance, and ye stand as names
That Hist'ry makes it own.

Farewell! the pleasant social page
Is read; but ye remain
Examples of ennobled age,

Long life without a stain;
A lesson to be scorned by none,
Least by the wise and brave,

Delightful as the winter sun

That gilds this open grave.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.