The soft, dark lashes rest upon her cheek,
Like shadows on the snow;
Hiding the full blue orbs whose light we seek—
But shall we find?—ah, no!
V.
There is less beauty in the glowing skies,
Less music in the vale;
The streams flow onward in a sadder guise,
The springs of pleasure fail.
VI.
Give back the precious dust, so still and fair,
Unto the waiting earth!
Hallow her couch with song and tearful prayer—
Tributes to love and worth.
VII.
A flood of radiance from the spirit-land
Dispels the gathered gloom;
Near to her God the spotless soul shall stand,
Forgetful of the tomb!