Jane's Poetry Book

On the Death of a Young Lady

Go! Beauty mark yon pallid cheek:
      The case of life once flourished there!
That lilly lip like thine could speak;
      That hand could wake a minstrel air.

Lifeless she lies! For ever gone
      Those orbs that lingering shone just now!
They rise no more! her locks forlorn
      Hang darkling o'er an ivory brow.

But yesterday - her eye - her smile
Were sweet as thine; her heart as gay;
Fair flower! - she bloom'd a little while,
Now earth resumes her native clay.

Sad, awful scene! I stand and gaze
      O'er all that once I thought so fair;
No tear, no sigh, the heart can raise
Wrapp'd in the midnight of despair.

"And yet she flew where angels tread."
      A voice uneartly seems to cry;
But oh! how lonely looks the dead,
      How desolate to human eye.

Go! Beauty, mark thy pictured doom,
      Mark how Death's icy fingers feel!
Tho' mirrors shew to thee thy bloom.
      Yet o'er thy cheek the worm must steal.

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