Classic Poem

She came, as comes the morning light
After a dark and troublous night;
And hearts that long had swooned in pain,
When she appeared revived again.

She came, as comes the joyous Spring,
With light and glory on her wing,
And all who saw her bent to praise
Her beauty, loveliness, and grace.

She came, as come the beauteous flowers,
Opening unseen in summer hours,
And spread around that silent spell,
Which made all spirits love her well.

Oh, had she lingered yet awhile
To bless us with her glorious smile,
Our souls had felt the loving glow!
Our hearts had ne'er been plunged in woe!

She was a star, whose holy light
Gleamed softly through the gloomy night,
Whose beam of glory gladdens yet: —
Alas, that she so quickly set!

She was a bright and glorious dream,
All silvered o'er with beauty's beam;
Whose memory lingers to the last: —
Alas, that she so quickly passed!

She went, as sinks the setting sun,
His bright brief course of beauty run,
When at the loveliest hour of day
He melts in his own light away.

She went, as fades some beauteous star
Set in the firmament afar,
Which, when the darkness glides away,
Is hidden in the light of day.

She went, as dies the fading rose,
When evening airs whisper repose;
But, like the withered rose's breath,
Her fragrance lingers after death!

Ev'n in the midst of beauty's bloom
She sought the shadow of the tomb:
But had she lived — oh, who can tell
The hopes of those who loved her well!

Why did she die — so fair, so young —
The varied song of life unsung?
So bright, so pure — why did she die?
Alas! alas! we know not why!

We can but trust 'tis for the best;
She now hath found a home of rest!
One flow'ret more from earth is riven,
One flow'ret more doth bloom in heaven!