14
THE DYING GIRL.
Bright with the visions of her vanished years,
Bright with the rainbow pictured on her tears
By love's and memory's pure and tender beams,
Soft-shining through her spirit's shadowy dreams.
Down her fair form her clustering locks hung low,
Like willow-boughs above a drift of snow;
On her pale cheek the fever-flush was bright;
Like a red flame upon a cloud of white;
Her thin, pale hand, through which the blue veins shone,
In all their windings beautiful, was thrown
Upon the crimson drapery of her bed,
Like a frail lily among roses red.
And there she lay. and tossed in wild unrest,
And clasped her weeping sister to her breast,
And uttered broken words of prayer and love
To God upon his mercy-seat above.
At length the glories of the sunset sky
Stole through the window to her wandering eye,
And, as her gaze was fixed intensely there,
She seemed to see a spirit in the air.
Half-rising on her couch: with sudden start,
She strove to clasp the vision to her heart,
Bright with the rainbow pictured on her tears
By love's and memory's pure and tender beams,
Soft-shining through her spirit's shadowy dreams.
Down her fair form her clustering locks hung low,
Like willow-boughs above a drift of snow;
On her pale cheek the fever-flush was bright;
Like a red flame upon a cloud of white;
Her thin, pale hand, through which the blue veins shone,
In all their windings beautiful, was thrown
Upon the crimson drapery of her bed,
Like a frail lily among roses red.
And there she lay. and tossed in wild unrest,
And clasped her weeping sister to her breast,
And uttered broken words of prayer and love
To God upon his mercy-seat above.
At length the glories of the sunset sky
Stole through the window to her wandering eye,
And, as her gaze was fixed intensely there,
She seemed to see a spirit in the air.
Half-rising on her couch: with sudden start,
She strove to clasp the vision to her heart,
