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SONGS.
WILLIAM AND MARGARET.
'Twas at the silent solemn hour,
When night and morning meet,
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.
Her face was like an April morn
Clad in a wintry cloud,
And clay-cold was her lily hand
That held her sable shroud.
So shall the fairest face appear,
When youth and years are flown
Such is the robe that kings must wear,
When death has reft their crown.
Her bloom was like the springing flower
That sips the silver dew;
The rose was budded in her cheek,
Just opening to the view.
But love had, like the canker-worm,
Consum'd her early prime,
The rose grew pale, and left her cheek;
She died before her time.
