Poems (Trask)/The Death-Bed
THE DEATH-BED.
Faintly came her breathing From her troubled breast; Feebly on the pillows Sank her head to rest. Calmly closed her eyelids, Passed her smile away, As the morning vapors Flee the light of day.
Paler grew her forehead With each panting breath, Ghastly o'er her features Lay the seal of death. Clasped her slender fingers On her bosom meek; Fell the golden tresses O'er her pallid cheek.
Passed her breath so calmly That we never knew When she walked in shadow Death's dark valley through; Never knew the moment When she paused to rest, At the gate which foldeth Ever in the Blest.
Passed she like the fragrance Of some fading flower, Or like summer sunbeams When the tempests lower; Left us but her memory, Sweet for evermore,—Earth has lost her for us, Heaven will restore.