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81
IN MEMORY OF KATIE REYNOLDS—DYING.
O! death,
If thou has aught of tenderness
Be kindly in thy touch
Of her whose fragile slenderness
Was overburdened much
With life. And let her seem to go to sleep,
As often does a tired child, when it has grown
Too tired to longer weep.
If thou has aught of tenderness
Be kindly in thy touch
Of her whose fragile slenderness
Was overburdened much
With life. And let her seem to go to sleep,
As often does a tired child, when it has grown
Too tired to longer weep.
A rose but half in bloom—
She is too young and beautiful to die,
But yet if she must go,
Let her go out as goes a sigh
From tired life and woe.
And let her keep in death's brief space
This side the grave, the dusky beauty still
Belonging to her face.
She is too young and beautiful to die,
But yet if she must go,
Let her go out as goes a sigh
From tired life and woe.
And let her keep in death's brief space
This side the grave, the dusky beauty still
Belonging to her face.
She must have been
Of those upon the trembling lyre
Of whom the poets sung;
“Whom the gods love” and desire
Fade and “die young.”
Her life so loved on earth was brief,
But yet withal so beautiful there is no cause,
But in our loss, for grief.
Of those upon the trembling lyre
Of whom the poets sung;
“Whom the gods love” and desire
Fade and “die young.”
Her life so loved on earth was brief,
But yet withal so beautiful there is no cause,
But in our loss, for grief.
Nashville, Tenn., December, 1893.
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