l'ariccia. life in death.
53
Oh what a wealth on that low bier is spread,
O'er which the curious eye may scan and hover,
Ere all in yon dark grassy tomb be laid
For the thick waving woods to hide and cover!
O'er which the curious eye may scan and hover,
Ere all in yon dark grassy tomb be laid
For the thick waving woods to hide and cover!
The mouth, on which no lover's kiss may press,
Its rosy promise all untimely pale;
The breast, from which no little child's caress
Shall draw sweet life, ere its white fount shall fail.
Its rosy promise all untimely pale;
The breast, from which no little child's caress
Shall draw sweet life, ere its white fount shall fail.
A mist before my yearning eyes has risen.
Thy fate yet unfulfilled—so young to die!
Ah! not to such as thou is earth a prison,
Nor death glad freedom from captivity.
Thy fate yet unfulfilled—so young to die!
Ah! not to such as thou is earth a prison,
Nor death glad freedom from captivity.
Oh! if this earth th' imperfect prelude be
To the full harmony of heavenly song,
How many a deep-toned chord is mute to thee,
Thou, to whom yet no tender ties belong!
To the full harmony of heavenly song,
How many a deep-toned chord is mute to thee,
Thou, to whom yet no tender ties belong!
When angel mothers sing of parent love,
How musicless thy voice amid the choir,
How musicless thy voice amid the choir,
