Theodore Tilton



In Memoriam

by Theodore Tilton

An acrostic.

These roses, planted on her grave, have blown:
Her memory, still too fresh for graven stone,
Endures as written on our hearts alone.
O loving friend! when thee we hither bore,
Dim were our eyes, and black the weeds we wore:
Our grief hath since grown less -- our love grown more.
Sweet gift of God!* whose gift we could not keep! --
If ever angels watch where willows weep,
A wall of folded wings shall guard thy sleep!

*Theodosia, Gift of God.


The Sexton's Tale, And Other Poems.
Copyright 1867
Sheldon And Company, New York.
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