loom again,
I tread the pleasant paths we trod,
I see the violet-sprinkled sod,
Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak,
The hillside flowers she loved to seek,
Yet following me where'er I went
With dark eyes full of love's content.
The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills
The air with sweetness; all the hills
Stretch green to June's unclouded sky;
But still I wait with ear and eye
For something gone which should be nigh,
A loss in all familiar things,
In flower that blooms, and bird that sings.
And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
Am I not richer than of old?
Safe in thy immortality,
What change can reach the wealth I hold?
What chance can mar the pearl and gold
Thy love hath left in trust with me?
And while in life's late afternoon
Where cool and long the shadows grow,
I walk to meet the night that soon
Shall shape and shadow overflow,
I cannot feel that thou art far,
Since near at need the angels are;
And when the sunset gates unbar,
Shall I not see thee waiting stand,
And, white against the evening star,
The welcome of thy beckoning hand?"

After the death of Elizabeth Whittier, the Amesbury home was cared for
by the poet's niece. During the remaining years of his life Whittier
passed his time here or in the country. He lived in comparative comfort,
for the publication of _Snow-Bound_ in 1866 had brought very good
returns. These were years of great peace, in which he remained actively
interested in the affairs of the nation, yet liked most to dwell upon
the beauty of nature and especially upon the thought of God's goodness
that must triumph over all the evil in the world. _Among the Hills_ and
the collections _Tent on the Beach_ and _At Sundown_ were produced in
the last period; but his religious poems seem best to represent his
thought and feeling in the closing years. From these were taken the
beautiful verses _At Last_, read as the poet passed away from earth,
September 7, 1892.

Though Whittier remained throughout his life a Quaker not only in dress
and speech but in belief and character, yet with his quietness and
quaint simplicity was blended no severity nor gloom. He had a great love
of fun, which alone can account for his mischievous habit of teasing,
and for his keeping such pets as the little bantam rooster that aroused
the household each morning with its crowing,