52
And yet it seemed like sin to grieve
For one so patient and resigned;
For, if she mourned, 't was but to leave
Such breaking hearts behind.
For one so patient and resigned;
For, if she mourned, 't was but to leave
Such breaking hearts behind.
She died—yet death could scarcely chill
Her smiling beauties, though she lay
With cold extended limbs, for still
Her face looked fairer than the day.
Those eyes, once eloquent with bliss,
Were closed as soft as shutting flowers.
O! few could bear a sight like this,
Yet such a sight was ours.
Her smiling beauties, though she lay
With cold extended limbs, for still
Her face looked fairer than the day.
Those eyes, once eloquent with bliss,
Were closed as soft as shutting flowers.
O! few could bear a sight like this,
Yet such a sight was ours.
How slowly wore that long, long day!
Like spirits in some haunted place
We 'd sit and sigh, then steal away
To look once more on that pale face;
We could not think her soul had past
The awful bounds of mortal strife,
That the warm heart was cold at last,
That loved us more than life.
Like spirits in some haunted place
We 'd sit and sigh, then steal away
To look once more on that pale face;
We could not think her soul had past
The awful bounds of mortal strife,
That the warm heart was cold at last,
That loved us more than life.
And when the funeral rite was said,
They bore her from our happy home,
And left her with the silent dead,
A pale-faced tenant of the tomb,
They reared no marble 'mid the flowers
Above her grave to mark the spot,
They bore her from our happy home,
And left her with the silent dead,
A pale-faced tenant of the tomb,
They reared no marble 'mid the flowers
Above her grave to mark the spot,
