But with the parting of that kiss
The sinless child-wife died.
The kindred angels joyful flew
From the realms of endless day,
And gently wafted her soul above,
But left to us her clay.
"She is dead! Kiss her and come away.
Your cries and prayers are all in vain,
Your May-Bell is cold, senseless clay;
In heaven above you'll meet again."
They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair
Back from her marble forehead fair;
Over her eyes, that oped too much,
They closed the lids with a tender touch.
They closed with tender touch, that day,
The thin, pale lips where beauty lay;
About her brow and her sweet pale face
They tied her veil and bridal lace;
Placed on her feet the white silk shoes
That May-Bell for her marriage chose;