Page:Poems Douglas.djvu/140

Ah! no, 'twas like the glaring
 Of torch-light, fitful shed
O'er sculptur'd features, wearing
 The calmness of the dead:
But soon her eye assum'd
 A clear, unearthly light,
Again her pale cheek bloom'd,
 But its glow was strangely bright.

'Twas the hand of death imparted
 That mockery of bloom,
Ere he led the blighted-hearted,
 Love's victim to the tomb.
Spring's early flowers were spreading
 Their bright leaves 'neath her feet,
But she turned aside from treading
 O'er buds so young and sweet.

She knew the young flowers springing
 So gaily round her path,
Kind hands should soon be flinging
 O'er her lonely bed of death.
She thought on death unsighing,
 Her wish was to depart;
Yet she breath'd one prayer, in dying,
 For the loved one of her heart.