 | The Legend of Genevieve |  |
116
FEMALE DECAY.
Thy looks were soft; thy cheek was fair;
Thy glance was, ah! too heavenly bright:
But then, we might have omen'd there,
From purer day, a darker night:
Since even the sun, when in the west,
Shines sweetest as he sinks to rest.
Thy glance was, ah! too heavenly bright:
But then, we might have omen'd there,
From purer day, a darker night:
Since even the sun, when in the west,
Shines sweetest as he sinks to rest.
Throughout the winter's brooding gloom,
I mark'd the lines of slow decay,
The roses of thy cheek consume;
Like rainbow tints they died away;
And pale, but placid, thou did'st greet
The doom, that some have shrunk to meet.
I mark'd the lines of slow decay,
The roses of thy cheek consume;
Like rainbow tints they died away;
And pale, but placid, thou did'st greet
The doom, that some have shrunk to meet.
117
The wintry winds were hush'd to rest:
The fields array'd in robes of green;
The songster built its little nest;
The blossom on the tree was seen;
The earth put on a livelier hue;
The sky its clear and cloudless blue;
The fields array'd in robes of green;
The songster built its little nest;
The blossom on the tree was seen;
The earth put on a livelier hue;
The sky its clear and cloudless blue;
Then, by the jasmined lattice, thou,
As fell the twilight shades, hast sate,
Hast smiled to see the flower in blow,
And Nature's finger renovate
The spring, as by a second birth;—
It was the last to thee on earth!
As fell the twilight shades, hast sate,
Hast smiled to see the flower in blow,
And Nature's finger renovate
The spring, as by a second birth;—
It was the last to thee on earth!
Oh! had'st thou felt Misfortune's rage;
Had hopeless sorrows marr'd thy lot;
Our tears, our grief, it might assuage,
To think that now thou feel'st them not:—
But, thou from earth wert rapt away,
When friends were kind, and nature gay.
Had hopeless sorrows marr'd thy lot;
Our tears, our grief, it might assuage,
To think that now thou feel'st them not:—
But, thou from earth wert rapt away,
When friends were kind, and nature gay.
The patriot, till his parting hour,
When doom'd in distant realms to dwell
Feels not affection's giant power,
Nor knew he loved his land so well.
So we, who mourn the fatal blow,
May guess thy value from our woe!
When doom'd in distant realms to dwell
Feels not affection's giant power,
Nor knew he loved his land so well.
118
May guess thy value from our woe!
I rest within the very walls
Where I have seen thee sadly gay;
Now,—thou art deaf to mortal calls;
Thou wert the flower of yesterday;
And roses, of as transient bloom,
Exhale their fragrance o'er thy tomb!
Where I have seen thee sadly gay;
Now,—thou art deaf to mortal calls;
Thou wert the flower of yesterday;
And roses, of as transient bloom,
Exhale their fragrance o'er thy tomb!
It is a white and simple stone,
That tells thy name, and timeless fate;
Within the grove it stands alone,
Beneath the boughs where thou hast sate;
And birds, allured by scene so fair,
Make melancholy music there.
That tells thy name, and timeless fate;
Within the grove it stands alone,
Beneath the boughs where thou hast sate;
And birds, allured by scene so fair,
Make melancholy music there.
Thou wert a meteor that did'st gleam
Before our eyes, and pass'd away;
And now to memory art a dream
Of loveliness, in pale decay;
Thy steps have sought another shore;
And we behold thy smiles no more!
Before our eyes, and pass'd away;
And now to memory art a dream
Of loveliness, in pale decay;
Thy steps have sought another shore;
And we behold thy smiles no more!
| The Legend of Genevieve | |