Silently the shades of evening

Gather round my lowly door;

Silently they bring before me

Faces I shall see no more.

2 O! the lost, the unforgotten,

Though the world be oft forgot;

O! the shrouded and the lonely—

In our hearts they perish not.

3 Living in the silent hours,

Where our spirits only blend,

They, unlinked with earthly trouble,

We, still hoping for its end.

4 How such holy memories cluster,

Like the stars when storms are past;

Pointing up to that far heaven

We may hope to gain at last.