

EOSE. 



And yet, alas ! her life is short, 



Her beauty fades and dies. 

 And withers soon that lovely form 

 Endued with every daiaty charm. 



Dissolve those earthly ties. 



But, as the holy, just, and true. 



When numbered with the dead"^, — 

 Around the scenes she once made bright 

 Her joy is still, though lost to sight, 

 A fragrance pure to shed. 



Oh I be my Ufe like thine, sweet Rose, 



All love, all peace, all praise ; 

 That so, whene'er I "fall on sleep," 

 I leave to cheer the friends that weep 

 The perfume of my days. 



"• "The memory of the just is blessed." — Proverbs x. 7. 



-~(r 



■ 



