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216 FOREST MELODIES. |
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She show'd us how to bid the world farewell, And calmly launch upon that unknown wave, Whose mystic surges wildly dash and swell Around "the grave.
" Our Mother!" Let that rev'rend name so dear
Be graven on the marble deep and high!
'Twas she who taught us by example here
To live, and die. y
MARY STODARD.
Has that tender blossom wither'd,
Faded in so brief an hour ? Has the grave within its bosom,
Hid that lovely fragile flower ? Has that cheek, so bright with roses,
Strangely, sadly faded now ? Can it be her form reposes
In the grave so cold and low ?
Late I saw that cherub smiling,
In her doating parents' arms; Saw them watch, with fondest rapture,
All her new, unfolding charms: Hopes about their hearts were twining,
Hopes a parent only knows— But, alas! those hopes have wither'd,
Wither'd like a fragile rose. |
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