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STANZAS.
95
She was too thoughtful for her years,
Its shell the spirit wore;
And when she smiled away our fears,
We only feared the more.
The crimson deepen'd on her cheek,
Her blue eyes shone more clear,
And every day she grew more weak,
And every hour more dear.
Her childhood was a happy time,
The loving and beloved;
Yon sky which was her native clime
Hath but its own removed.
This earth was not for one, to whom
Nothing of earth was given;
'Twas but a resting place, her tomb,
Between the world and heaven.
