Heath flowers :: :: University of Virginia Library

Plant the dark Cypress on the grave,
And twine it with the mournful Rue,
And let for ever o'er it wave
The branches of the lonely Yew:
For never fairer floweret grew
Than she who rests within that tomb;
The bud half opened, fair to view,
Then withered in its early bloom.

I recollect thy early days,
Sweet Scion! beauty's opening pride!
With rapture then I'd on thee gaze,
A lambkin by thy mother's side;
In after times, a blooming bride
Ye offered up thy virgin vow,
With youth and honour at thy side—
But where are these endearments now?

Shortly to thee delight was given,
The day of bliss too soon did lowr;
Yet in thy face the joy of heaven
Beamed sweetly in the trying hour;
Sweet Innocent! sin had no power
To lay on thee his iron rod;
But angels cropt the lovely flower,
And bore it proudly to its God.

Thy gentle spirit, hovering nigh,
May sometimes rest upon the tomb,
To hear the swelling filial sigh,
When Mary muses on thy doom:
In morning's dawn, in eve's soft gloom,
She'll pass her loneliest, sweetest hours,
And, in the pride of nature's bloom,
She'll strew thy grave with lovely flowers.

Young traveller on life's thorny ground,
Where'er ye go, howe'er ye fare,
Thy mother's spirit, hovering round,
Will be thy guardian angel there:
She'll watch thee thro' this land of care,
She'll breathe on thee the prayer of bliss;
And in full time, O! may'st thou share
With her the joys of paradise.

Then plant the Cypress on the grave,
And twine it with the mournful Rue,
And let for ever o'er it wave,
The branches of the lonely Yew:
For never fairer floweret grew
Than she who rests within that tomb;
The bud half opened, fair to view,
Then withered in its early bloom.

Since writing the above, Mrs R's first and only daughter, Mary, has joined her mother in the tomb.