To the Memory of Margaret Tighe: TAKEN FROM US JUNE 7TH, 1804. — ÆTAT 85. SWEET, placid Spirit! blest, supremely blest, Whose life was tranquil, and whose end was rest; 'Tis not for thee our general tears shall flow, Our loss is selfish, selfish is our woe: We mourn a common parent, common friend, Centre, round whom thy children loved to bend: Where hands divided, met again to move In one sweet circle of united love: We mourn the tender, sympathising heart So prompt to aid, and share the sufferer's part; The liberal hand, the kindly patient ear, Pity's soft sigh, and ever ready tear; The graceful form, yet lovely in decay, The peace inspiring eye's benignant ray; The lip of tenderness that soothed the sad, And loved to bid the innocent be glad; The gently, softening, reconciling word, The ever cheerful, hospitable board: The unassuming wisdom, pious prayers, The still renewed, prolonged, maternal cares: All — all are lost! — of thee, blest Saint, bereft, We mourn, to whom impoverished life is left: Mourn for ourselves! Secure thy lot must be, With those who pure in heart their God shall see.