U1RGE. 



BY KEN11ICK VAN WINCKLE. 







( 



Adieu ! dear heavenly maid 



A long adieu ! 

 Thou wert a rose arrayed 



In love's own hue. 

 But all earth's flowers fade 



That ever grew. 

 Thou sleep'st beneath the yew 



A quiet sleep ; 

 Thy grave is wet with dew, 



That angels weep ; 

 For tears they ofttimes strew 



Where watch they keep. 

 Not that afflictions deep 



Their breasts o'erflow: 

 The tears that angels weep 



Spring not from woe 

 Too high a flight they sweep 



Life's ills to know. 

 Sweet maid that liest low, 



Enjoy thy rest : 

 Thou hast escaped the throe 



Of hearts distressed. 

 Thou did'st not live to know 



The grief- worn breast ; 

 The ills that life infest 



Assailed not thee. 

 Thou art among the blest 



A spirit free, 

 A blithesome, happy guest, 



Where such should be. 

 And we, thy sisters, we 



Thy grave surround, 

 And sing on bended knee, 



And deck thy mound ; 

 And pant to fly, like thee, 



To angel-ground. 

 Spirit ! with brightness crowned, 



Farewell ! farewell ! 

 Where heaven's sweet timbrels sound, 



'Tis thine to dwell. 

 Our eyes with tears are drowned 



Farewell ! farewell ! 



j tad 

 .M 



