Classic Poem

The Child of Promise

She died—as die the roses
On the ruddy clouds of dawn,
When the envious sun discloses
His flame, and morning's gone.

She died—like snow glad-gracing
Some sea-marge fair, when, lo!
Rude waves, each other chasing,
Quick hide it 'neath their flow.

She died—like snow fair showering
Some sea-marge, when, anon,
In comes the wave devouring—
The beautiful is gone.

She died—as dies the glory
Of music's sweetest swell:
She died—as dies the story
When the best is still to tell!

She died—as dies moon-beaming
When scowls the rayless wave;
She died—like sweetest dreaming
That hastens to its grave.

She died—and died she early;
Heaven wearied for its own.
As the dipping sun, my Mary,
Thy morning ray went down!English