To Mary, On Seeing Her Portrait Poem by Mary Anne Browne

Oh take that portrait from my sight; -
I cannot bear to gaze
On eyes that only mock the light
Hers shed on happier days.
And smiles so sweet-so like her own-
That I should think the living one
Was shedding there its rays ;
And I should cherish the dear thought
'Till I awoke and found her not.

My Mary ! does thy blessed soul
Inhabit some bright sphere ?
Or does it roam from pole to pole,
Or is it lingering near ?
Perhaps, e'en while I vainly weep,
Thy spirit guarding watch may keep
O'er him who once was dear ;-
Once! my fair guardian Angel ; - thou
May'st well retain thine office now ;-

For ne'er before did spirit need
So much a spirit's care ;
And ne'er did human heart yet bleed
For one so young and fair.
Oh ! in mine anguish, succour me,-
If from thy bless'd Eternity
One moment thou can'st spare : -
'Twill not be long-'twill soon be past-
Despair can not for ever last !

I shall not soon forget the smile
Upon thy patient face,
When I was by,-tho' death the while
There fix'd his dwelling-place ;
The eye that beam'd when I was near, -
But ah ! so faintly, that a tear
Had lent it better grace ;
And those fond lips that, tho' in pain,
Refused to murmur or complain.

Oh Spirit ! if thou hast the power
To temper my distress,
If thou can'st lighten this dark hour
From thoughts of bitterness,
Look from thy radiant sphere above,
And cheer the object of thy love ; -
Thy joy will not be less :
Then, my short life of sorrow o'er,
Mary ! we'll meet-to part no more.