Classic Poem

She left the world in early youth,
Without a sigh resigned,
To wear the veil of thought within
The cloisters of her mind.

The vanities and cares of life
Did never reach her there;
Her days were passed in holy works,
Her nights were passed in prayer:

But not for sorrows of her own,
Nor sins to be forgiven;
Devotions were the golden rounds
By which she rose to Heaven.