 | Poems |  |
SONNET.
[They drew the thick green curtain-folds aside]
They drew the thick green curtain-folds aside,That so the ritual words mine eye might trace
Which give the Christian, even in Death's embrace,
His flesh and blood, who once for sinners died;
But when once more her features I descried,
She said—“I shrank from shewing thee my face,
Lest its sad image Time might not erase
From thy remembrance, friend beloved and tried.”
Ah! fond!—to deem that on my heart and brain
That saintly look of patient, meek distress,
Which spake of faith triumphant over pain,
No holier, dearer image could impress
Than even the cherish'd visions which remain
Of her once rare and perfect loveliness!
| Poems | |