They say that thou wert lovely on thy bier, More lovely than in life; that when the thrall Of earth was loosed, it seemed as though a pall Of years were lifted, and thou didst appear Such as of old amidst thy home's calm sphere Thou sat'st, a kindly Presence felt by all In joy or grief, from morn to evening-fall, The peaceful Genius of that mansion dear. Was it the craft of all-persuading Love That wrought this marvel? or is d**h indeed A mighty master, gifted from above With alchemy benign, to wounded hearts Minist'ring thus, by quaint and subtle arts, Strange comfort, whereon after-thought may feed?