Ashes to Ashes.
To hold the smile that went and came
In life, a bright but fitful flame,
Frozen upon its lips;
And a dark, dull, time-withered face,
Where feeling never left a trace,
Nor beauty shaped a curve—
A narrow and unlovely brow,
Whose mold proclaimed it formed to bow;
A creature fit to serve.
And there were fingers, white as pearls,
And slight and dainty as a girl's,
That with a rigid clasp caressed
A sable hand, that coldly pressed
And held them to a frozen breast.
In life, a bright but fitful flame,
Frozen upon its lips;
And a dark, dull, time-withered face,
Where feeling never left a trace,
Nor beauty shaped a curve—
A narrow and unlovely brow,
Whose mold proclaimed it formed to bow;
A creature fit to serve.
And there were fingers, white as pearls,
And slight and dainty as a girl's,
That with a rigid clasp caressed
A sable hand, that coldly pressed
And held them to a frozen breast.
Two mortal brothers, hand in hand,
Slept on the bosom of the Land;
And Heaven's meek brow seemed leaning down
To fasten in its starry crown
The soul-gems it had won
Since the pale hour of twilight passed
The portal of existence last,
To curtain out the sun.
And, maybe, in that crown they shine
Two stars, whose rays would dare to twine;
It may be that the curse
Slept on the bosom of the Land;
And Heaven's meek brow seemed leaning down
To fasten in its starry crown
The soul-gems it had won
Since the pale hour of twilight passed
The portal of existence last,
To curtain out the sun.
And, maybe, in that crown they shine
Two stars, whose rays would dare to twine;
It may be that the curse
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