A light from our household has gone;
A voice which we loved is stilled;
And vacant the place at our hearth,
Which never again can be filled.

That gentle heart, that throbbed with us,
IN tenderness and love,
Has ceased its weary throbbings here,
To throb in bliss above.

Yes, to her home, where angels are,
We trust her soul has fled;
And yet we lean upon her tomb,
With tears, and say, “She’s dead!”

We say, she’s dead! But ah we know,
She lives where living waters flow.

Author: Unknown

Signs of the Times
Volume 28, Number 24; December 15, 1860

Below are the songs that were made from the poem using AI. They are identified
by the genre of the music in paranthesis.