To Keep the Memory Of
Charlotte Forten Grimké
Angelina Weld Grimké 1880-1958

Still are there wonders of the dark and day:

   The muted shrilling of shy things at night,

      So small beneath the stars and moon;

   The peace, dream-frail, but perfect while the light

      Lies softly on the leaves at noon.

         These are, and these will be

             Until eternity;

But she who loved them well has gone away.

 

Each dawn, while yet the east is veiléd grey,

   The birds about her window wake and sing;

      And far away, each day, some lark

   I know is singing where the grasses swing;

      Some robin calls and calls at dark.

         These are, and these will be

             Until eternity;

But she who loved them well has gone away.

 

The wild flowers that she loved down green ways stray;

   Her roses lift their wistful buds at dawn,

      But not for eyes that loved them best;

   Only her little pansies are all gone,

      Some lying softly on her breast.

         And flowers will bud and be

             Until eternity;

But she who loved them well has gone away.

 

Where has she gone? And who is there to say?

   But this we know: her gentle spirit moves

      And is where beauty never wanes,

   Perchance by other streams, mid other groves;

      And to us there, ah! she remains

         A lovely memory

             Until eternity;

She came, she loved, and then she went away.