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Felicia Dorothea Hemans - A Domestic Scene
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`Twas early day — and sunlight stream`d 
Soft through a quiet room,
That hush`d, but not forsaken, seem`d —
Still, but with nought but gloom;
For there, secure in happy age,
Whose hope is from above,
A father communed with the page
Of Heaven`s recorded love.

Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright
On his gray holy hair,
And touch`d the book with tenderest light
As if its shrine were there;
But oh! that patriarch`s aspect shone
With something lovelier far —
A radiance all the spirits own,
Caught not from the sun or star.

Some word of life e`en then had met
His calm benignant eye;
Some ancient promise breathing yet
Of immortality;
Some heart`s deep language where the glow
Of quenchless faith survives;
For every feature said "I know 
That my Redeemer lives."

And silent stood his children by,
Hushing their very breath
Before this solemn sanctity
Of thoughts o`ersweeping death;
Silent — yet did not each young breast,
With love and rev`rence melt?
Oh! blest be those fair girls — and blest
That home where God is felt!
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