Read Lines, Written upon the Death of Two Sisters of Withered Leaves from Memory's Garland, free online book, by Abigail Stanley Hanna, on ReadCentral.com.

What heav’nly music greets mine ear!
What seraph’s voice is that I hear,
Breathing in numbers soft and low?
Methinks th’ angelic strains I know.

Dearest sister, come away,
There’s nought on earth that’s worth thy stay;
Then, sister, linger not, but haste
The joys of paradise to taste.

The songs of praise we utter here,
Have ne’er been heard by mortal ear;
Nor mortal eye hath ever seen
“The fields array’d in living green.”

The gates of precious stone unfold,
The streets are paved with shining gold;
Pure crystal streams of water flow,
And trees of fadeless verdure grow.

There is no sighing here, nor tears,
No guilty thoughts, no doubts or fears;
But love is pure and never dies,
And songs of endless praise arise.

Then sister, linger not, but come,
Angels await to guard thee home;
Here, in the mansions of the blest,
Here shall thy weary soul find rest.

Sister, I come, thy cheering voice
Bids my whole heart and soul rejoice;
Fain would my ling’ring spirit rise
On wings of Faith beyond the skies.

I linger but a little space,
To gaze upon my husband’s face;
My gentle infant’s lips to press,
And fold my first born to my breast.

My mother’s voice once more to hear,
Once more to see a brother dear,
A sister’s parting kiss receive,
Then, dearest sister, I will leave.

E’en now my clouded senses feel
A heav’nly transport o’er them steal;
My sight grows dim, thick comes my breath;
Sister, I come, for this is death.