The Venture/Beauty's Mirror
WHEN BONY DEATH HAS CHILLED HER GENTLE BLOOD.
When bony Death has chilled her gentle bloodAnd dimmed the brightness of her wistful eyes,And stamped her glorious beauty into mudBy his old skill in hateful wizardies.
When an old lichened marble strives to tellHow sweet a grace, how red a lip was hers;When rheumy gray-beards say, "I knew her well,"Showing the grave to curious worshippers.
When all the roses that she sowed in meHave dripped their crimson petals and decayed,Leaving no greenery on any treeThat her dear hands in my heart's garden laid,
Then grant, old Time, to my green mouldering skullThese songs may keep her memory beautiful.