Classic Poem

The stars were bright as at their birth,
And angel-voices thrilled the air;
When, spirit-like, and pure as fair,
She came to bless our home on earth.

Her new-born life, like budding flower,
Awoke as from the slumbering night,
And smiled to greet the morning light,
And grew in love and artless power.

And, with the lapse of speeding years,
She grew in graces which adorn
The woman, lovely as the morn,
And beautiful 'mid hopes and fears.

With modest mien, enchanting all,
She seemed a vision from the sky,
The cynosure of every eye
In social sphere or festive hall.

Yet higher aims in life she sought,
And early chose that “better part,”
God's love, which purifies the heart
When in the soul 'tis deeply wrought.

Her smile was like a magic charm,
A heavenly twilight blandly wove;
And in an atmosphere of love
She ever moved serene and calm.

In Fashion's glare, or humbler sphere,
Wherever souls have genial flow,
Admirers paused, and whispered low
Her praise in words which were sincere.

And one there was, a man of heart,
Of finest feelings, kind, yet brave,
To whom her jewelled hand she gave;
Ay, gave her life, of his a part.

And theirs was now a cloudless sky,
With pleasing hopes and noble pride;
For they were one, bridegroom and bride,
Nor dreamed that aught could break the tie.

On rapturous wing the blest hours flew,
With joys renewed as sped the day;
And vernal flowers smiled on the way,
And mountain-scenes entranced the view.

Nor long awaiting their return,
Friends welcomed them with earnest kiss,
The purest, holiest earthly bliss,
In homes where sacred altars burn.

How joyous now the festive hour,
When music cheered the lighted hall,
And wreaths of flowers bedecked the wall,
And Beauty smiled with witching power!

Yet many days passed not away
Ere on their path a shadow fell,
Whose mystic meaning none could tell,—
A shadow that prolonged its stay.

Full soon the final summons came,
And o'er the River dark and wide
Forever passed the sainted bride,
Whose love still lives, a deathless flame.

And he whose love had won her heart,
And they who shared its kindred ties,
Bemoaned her flight with tearful eyes,
And bosoms pierced by Sorrow's dart.

Where now her dust in silence sleeps,
There oft a footstep light is heard;
And there as oft his soul is stirred
Who truly loved, and, loving, weeps.

There autumn sheds the faded leaf
Upon that hallowed spot of earth,
And there the vernal flower has birth,
Emblems of her whose life was brief.

There was she laid, with tender care,
In bridal robes,—her last request,—
The weary one now gone to rest,
The loved, the beautiful, the fair!

Ah! must it be?—must we no more
On earth behold her happy face,
Her loving smile, and queenly grace,
Nor hear her steps within our door?

How oft she touched to pensive song
The melting strings of her guitar,—
Melting, like music from afar,
In tones that linger, sweet and long!

Oh, how endeared each relic seems
Which she has left behind to tell
Of her sweet self, and which, like spell,
Recalls her still in pleasing dreams!