O'er thy lone beauty, sweet Birkhill, <br />Sad, brooding memory hovers still; <br />Within, without, the sylvan cot, <br />Ah! long unseen, but ne'er forgot. <br /> <br /> <br />The fair-haired father, gentle wife, <br />True helpmate of his toiling life; <br />The joyous group of youthful faces <br />Gone, vanished-lo! their vacant places. <br /> <br /> <br />Meek Margaret, with the soft brown eyes, <br />And Jane, the thoughtful, kind, and wise; <br />Bright Isa, of the golden hair, <br />And baby Annie, pale and fair. <br /> <br /> <br />And Willie, generous, bold, and free, <br />The master mind of brothers three; <br />He, while in manhood's glowing prime, <br />Drooped, languished, died in Indian clime. <br /> <br /> <br />And two, when life's young leaves were green, <br />And hope's fair blossoms blushed between, <br />Fell, in the mildew of decay, <br />Like withered flowers upon the clay. <br /> <br /> <br />When summer dressed lone Birkhill's bowers, <br />And gemmed her garden plots with flowers, <br />And draped her cottage wall with roses, <br />Within, on couch of death, reposes <br /> <br /> <br />A white-robed form in marble beauty- <br />Without to pay the last sad duty. <br />For years we saw the mourners come: <br />One only waits till summoned home. <br /> <br /> <br />And she and I are near the bourne, <br />From whence no traveller may return; <br />Soon shall the link that binds us sever, <br />But faith and hope say, 'Not for ever.'<br /><br />Janet Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/birkhill-a-memory/
