Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour, Death has left on her Only the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Her fair auburn tresses; Where was her home? Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other? Alas! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun! Oh! it was pitiful! Near a whole city full, Home she had none. Sisterly, brotherly, Feelings had changed: Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence Seeming estranged. Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: Glad to death's mystery, Swift to be hurl'd Any where, any where Out of the world! Cross her hands humbly, Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour, And leaving, with meekness, 37. I Remember, I Remember. I REMEMBER, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun He never came a wink too soon, I remember, I remember, |