And lovely passions, changing oft,
So fill her, she appears
The image of themselves by turns,—
The idol of past years!
Of her bright face one glance will trace
A picture on the brain,
And of her voice in echoing hearts
A sound must long remain;
But memory such as mine of her
So very much endears,
When death is nigh, my latest sigh
Will not be life's, but hers.
I fill this cup to one made up
Of loveliness alone,
A woman, of her gentle sex
The seeming paragon—
Her health! and would on earth there stood
Some more of such a frame,
That life might be all poetry,
And weariness a name.
MIRABEAU BUONAPARTE LAMAR
[Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar was born in Georgia in 1798 and died in 1859 at Richmond, Texas. After several years of farming and business life, Lamar became, in 1828, editor of the Columbus Independent. In 1835 he emigrated to Texas, and for the remainder of his days lived a picturesque life in that state. He served in the Texan war for independence, and in the Mexican War. Later in life he received diplomatic appointments to Argentina, Costa Rica, and Nicaragua. His volume of poems entitled "Verse Memorials" was published in 1857.]
