 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
73
DEATH.
With your pale burden, gently, gently tread—She came to us a bride a year ago
And now Love's sweet star crimsons the pale snow,
About her early, melancholy bed.
Why weep ye for her? She hath done with pain,
And meekly to our common portion bowed.
Unthread the roses from the shining train
Of her long tresses, and prepare the shroud!
Her heart was full of dreams of heavenly birth,
While in the borders of dim life she stayed,
Like some young lily golden dews had weighed
Down to the chilly bosom of the earth.
For but the wing of death, while here she trod,
Rested between her beautiful life and God.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |