Ere life's cold hues had shadow'd on him.
Beauty, hath joined the assembly here,
With marble brow, and close-shut eye,
And pallid lip,—while o'er her bier,
The dirge was chanted mournfully.
And roses bloom on many a grave,
With lilies fair, and violets blue,
And willows their green branches wave,
Shedding pale evening's tears of dew.
Round many a tomb that flow'ret springs,