| Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912. |
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| Thomas William Parsons. 1819–1892 |
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| 142. Mary Booth |
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| WHAT shall we do now, Mary being dead, | |
| Or say or write that shall express the half? | |
| What can we do but pillow that fair head, | |
| And let the Spring-time write her epitaph?— | |
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| As it will soon, in snowdrop, violet, | 5 |
| Wind-flower and columbine and maiden's tear; | |
| Each letter of that pretty alphabet, | |
| That spells in flowers the pageant of the year. | |
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| She was a maiden for a man to love; | |
| She was a woman for a husband's life; | 10 |
| One that had learned to value, far above | |
| The name of love, the sacred name of wife. | |
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| Her little life-dream, rounded so with sleep, | |
| Had all there is of life, except gray hairs,— | |
| Hope, love, trust, passion and devotion deep; | 15 |
| And that mysterious tie a Mother bears. | |
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| She hath fulfilled her promise and hath passed; | |
| Set her down gently at the iron door! | |
| Eyes look on that loved image for the last: | |
| Now cover it in earth,—her earth no more. | 20 |
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