Classic Poem

Died of starvation! — yes, it has been done;
To-day I've seen a hunger-murdered one,
Who had a perfect right, it seemed to me,
The mistress of a happy home to be;
And yet we found her on a ragged bed,
One white arm underneath a shapely head.
Her long, bright hair was lying, fold on fold,
Like finest threads spun from a bar of gold;
Her face was chiselled after beauty's style,
And want had not hewn out its witching smile;
'Twas like white marble half endowed with breath —
The face of this sweet maiden — starved to death!

Not far from where she lay, so sadly lone,
Her calendar, or " diary, " was thrown;
They let me have it when the law had read
This plaintive, girlish message from the dead.
It doesn't look well among these notes to stay,
Of one who feeds on blessings every day;
But I will put it in here, for my heart
To look at when I feel too proud and smart!