Classic Poem

Though thou wast passing fair,
And wondrous beauty crown'd thee,
And Fancy's robe most rare,
Forever brightly bound thee:

I could not teach my heart,
To bow in love before thee,
Nor bid the death depart,
Which now hangs darkly o'er thee.

I know a hectic flush
On thy sweet cheek is burning,
That thou dost stilly hush
Thy wrung heart's deepest yearning.

I know that in thy breast,
A serpent closely lurking,
Forbids thee e'er to rest,
Thy utter ruin working.

When, in the chilly ground,
Thy lovely form lies sleeping,
Where vi'lets spring around,
And purest dews are weeping:

Thy sinless soul ascending
Above this dreary sod,
Shall feel its being blending
In deathless love with God.