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246 FOREST MELODIES.
She pass'd away, In the fresh morning of her years, When, radiant most with pleasure's ray,
Life's path appears.
While friends most kind Lavish'd their fond love o'er her way, And all things beautiful combined
To ask her stay.
O'er her fresh grave Now coldly falls the nightly frost, While the loud, wintry tempests rave,
Wailing the lost.
And friends sincere, Though distant far, bewail her blighted bloom; While tears from weeping kindred near
Bedew her tomb.
Where shall they turn ? Where look for consolation now ? Death's solemn signet, pale and stern,
Is on her brow.
0 I ye, who stood About her bed with tearful eye, Who saw her sink in Jordan's flood,
How did she die ?