I look on that serene and saintly face
And mark the placid beauty pictured there;
In that calm countenance no weight of care
Nor darkness of distress could e’er efface
Or overshade the sweet, old-fashioned grace.
She seems an angel sent to do and dare,
A gentle martyr fortified to bear
Truth’s sorest trials. Yet here is no sad trace
Of her life’s battles; from those tranquil eyes
There beams a perfect peace. O noble soul,
What do not Truth and Freedom owe to thee!
Thy name we love, thy memory we prize;
And round thy brow we see the aureole
That crowned thy life of sweet philanthropy.
(John Russell Hayes)
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