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The wild autumnal storm
Which whistles o'er thy form,
Will in its ruthlessness exhale
Thy slight "perfume upon the gale;"
And thou still lower hang thine humble head.
Then come, and on the tomb
Of one whose short-lived bloom
Was like thine own, thy parting sweetness shed;
For she, like thee, when wintry storms appeared,
Her modest head upreared,
And in her gentleness defied the blast;
Like thee, she faded slowly, day by day.
Like thine, her early bloom exhaled away,
When summer suns and the bright hours were past.
Which whistles o'er thy form,
Will in its ruthlessness exhale
Thy slight "perfume upon the gale;"
And thou still lower hang thine humble head.
Then come, and on the tomb
Of one whose short-lived bloom
Was like thine own, thy parting sweetness shed;
For she, like thee, when wintry storms appeared,
Her modest head upreared,
And in her gentleness defied the blast;
Like thee, she faded slowly, day by day.
Like thine, her early bloom exhaled away,
When summer suns and the bright hours were past.
