FLORA AND THALIA. 165 



The grave must be thy cradle, now ; 

 The wild-flowers o'er thy breast shall grow, 

 While still my heart, all full of thee, 

 In widowed solitude shall be. 



No taint of earth, no thought of sin. 

 E'er dwelt thy stainless breast within, 

 And God hath laid thee down to sleep, 

 Like a pure pearl below the deep. 



Yea ! from mine arms thy soul hath flown 

 Above, and found the heavenly throne, 

 To join thy blest angelic ring, 

 That aye around the altar sing. 



Methought when years had rolled away, 

 That thou wouldst be my age's stay ! 

 And often have I dreamt to see 

 The boy — the youth — the man in thee ! 



But thou hast past ! for ever gone, 

 To leave me childless and alone, 

 Like Rachel pouring tear on tear, 

 And looking not for comfort here ! 



Farewell, my child, the dews shall fall. 

 At noon and evening, o'er thy pall ; 

 And daisies, when the vernal year 

 Revives, upon thy turf appear. 



