Poems (Trask)/Marion
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MARION.
She passed away,
Like a fair star "lost on the brow of day;"
Like the echo of laughter sweet and gay,
Like the perfume which died out yesterday;
As evening's silver dissipates day's gold,
As the sweet music of a tale oft told,
As the red clouds that round the mountain fold
Are changed to gray,—
She passed away.
Like a fair star "lost on the brow of day;"
Like the echo of laughter sweet and gay,
Like the perfume which died out yesterday;
As evening's silver dissipates day's gold,
As the sweet music of a tale oft told,
As the red clouds that round the mountain fold
Are changed to gray,—
She passed away.
She passed away,
Like the soft sunshine of an autumn day,
Like the mist-wreaths from off a sunlit bay,
Like the light footsteps of a woodland fay;
As the bright rainbow spanning the dark sky,
As thistle-down when stormy winds are high,—
As the hope-light, born in a weary eye,
Flees at grief's stay,
She passed away.
Like the soft sunshine of an autumn day,
Like the mist-wreaths from off a sunlit bay,
Like the light footsteps of a woodland fay;
As the bright rainbow spanning the dark sky,
As thistle-down when stormy winds are high,—
As the hope-light, born in a weary eye,
Flees at grief's stay,
She passed away.