She smiles on the fields of eternal fruition,
Whilst death like a bridegroom attends her away.
She is gone in the whirlwind—ye seraphs attend her;
Through Jordan's cold torrent her mantle may lave;
She soars in the chariot, and earth falls beneath her,
Resign'd in a shroud to a peaceable grave.
ON DEATH.
Deceitful worm, that undermines the clay,
Which slyly steals the thoughtless soul away,
Pervading neighborhoods with sad surprise,
Like sudden storms of wind and thunder rise.
The sounding death-watch lurks within the wall,
Away some unsuspecting soul to call;
The pendant willow droops her waving head.
And sighing zephyrs whisper of the dead.
Methinks I hear the doleful midnight knell—
Some parting spirit bids the world farewell;
The taper burns as conscious of distress,
And seems to show the living number less.
Must a lov'd daughter from her father part,
And grieve for one who lies so near her heart?
