102
THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
To rest each mortal grief and care
Beside the Saviour's sepulchre.
She bent above the sleeper's face,
'Tis the last time her eyes will trace
The features graven in her heart,
With life, life only to depart.
A sad and solemn look she wore,
For hope and passion are no more;
And on her pallid brow appears
The tenderness of prayers and tears;
The quiet of unchanging gloom,
The shadow of an early tomb.
She starts! some other step is near,
A stranger must not find her here;
The heavy curtains round will hide
Her last sad vigil at his side.
