Page:Poems Pizey.djvu/94

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80

The tyrant Death, to wound more deeply, came
Conceal'd in lovely health's attracting form,
Gave back the lustre to thine eye, the same
Sweet roseate blush that did thy cheek adorn.

Thy wretched father mourns thy fate in vain,
Thou dearest gem of all a father's treasures;
Thy sisters weep with agonizing pain,
The lov'd companion of their youthful pleasures.

Like the bud gathered from its parent stem,
While other flowers are blooming gaily by,
Thou wert selected but to rival them,
And spread thy brighter charms in realms on high.

Some gentle spirit, as it chanc'd to stray,
Saw thee a sister angel ling'ring here,
And bade Death steal thy earthly garb away,
That thou in brighter raiment might appear.

FINIS.