Poems (Baldwyn)/Amanda
AMANDA.
She rests within her peaceful grave, Beneath th' o'ershadowing hill, Where forest-trees their branches wave, And flowers with perfume fill The trembling air, that never sweeps In tempests wildly there, But breathes its requiem while she sleeps, Like whisperings of prayer.
There morning through the autumn trees Sheds beams of fairest light; Like hope, whose radiance never leaves The stricken in his blight. Her mem'ry thus doth shine for me From its pure heaven of love: All, all may fade, yet still will she Speak from her home above.