Лукреция Мария Дэвидсон (Lucretia Maria Davidson)

On the Death of the Beautiful Mrs.--

I saw her when life's tide was high,
When youth was hov'ring o'er her brow,
When joy was dancing in her eye,
And her cheek blush'd hope's crimson glow.

I saw her 'mid a fairy throng,
She seem'd the gayest of the gay;
I saw her lightly glide along,
'Neath beauty's smile, and pleasure's lay.

I saw her in her bridal robe,
The blush of joy was mounting high;
I mark'd her bosom's heaving throb,
I mark'd her dark and downcast eye.

I saw her when a mother's love,
Ask'd at her hand a mother's care;
She look'd an angel from above,
Hov'ring round a cherub fair.

I saw her not till cold and pale,
She slumber'd on death's icy arm;
The rose had faded on her cheek,
Her lip had lost its power to charm.

That eye was dim which brightly shone;
That brow was cold, that heart was still
The witch'ries of that form had flown
The lifeless clay had ceas'd to feel.

I saw her wedded to the grave;
Her bridal robes were weeds of death;
And o'er her pale, cold brow, was hung
The damp sepulchral icy wreath.

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