The Girl I Left Behind Me/Anna's Urn

by Anonymous

ANNA’S URN.

ENcompass’d in an angel’s frame,
An angel’s virtues lay:
Too soon did heaven assert its claim,
 and call’d its own away,
 and call’d its own away.
My Anna’s worth, my Anna’s charms
 can never more return,
 can never more return,
What then shall fill these widow’d arms?
 ah me! ah me! ah me!
My Anna’s urn!
Can I forget that bliss refin’d,
 which blest with her I knew?
Our hearts, in sacred bonds entwin’d,
 were bound by love too true.
That rural train, which once were us’d
 in festive dance to turn,
So pleas’d, when Anna they amus’d,
 now weeping deck her Urn.
The soul escaping from its chain,
 she clasp’d me to her breast,
To part with thee is all my pain!
 she cry’d! then sunk to rest!
While mem’ry shall her seat retain,
 from beauteous Anna torn,
My heart shall breathe its ceaseless strain
 of sorrow o’er her Urn.
There with the earliest dawn, a dove
 laments her murder’d mate.
There Philomela, lost to love,
 tells the pale moon her fate.
With yew, and ivy round me spread,
 my Anna there I’ll mourn
For all my soul, now she is dead,
 concentres in her Urn.