Poems (Osgood)/To ——— (You are not what you used to be)

by Frances Sargent Osgood

TO ———

You are not what you used to be,
 When we were merry girls;
Your hair,—that floated then so free,
 In wild aerial curls,

Or drooping, from your forehead meek,
 In beautiful repose,—
Lay light and soft upon your cheek—
 A shadow on the rose!—

Is parted, with Madonna grace,
 Above a sadden'd brow,
And shades a calm and thoughtful face,
 That wears no rose-bloom now!

You are not what you used to be;
 Your girlhood's lightsome mood,
Your springing step and tone of glee,
 Are soften'd and subdued.

You are not what you used to be;
 But oh! how much more worth,
Than that light thing of frolic free,
 The wildest girl on earth!

Forever—as the joyous play
 Of bloom and light has faded,
And tint by tint, and ray by ray,
 By care has been o'ershaded,—

You have been gathering holier wealth
 Within—a store of treasures!
Flowers, fairer than the Rose of Health,
 And rays, more rich than Pleasure's!

And while the worthless splendor stole,
 Unheeded, from those eyes,
A lamp was lighted in your soul—
 A star that never dies!

You are not what you used to be;
 But you are less of earth,
And richer, in your want of glee,
 Than others, in their mirth!