This page has been validated.
8
ALL THAT’S BRIGHT MUST FADE.
All that’s bright must fade,
The brightest still the fleetest,
All that’s sweet was made
But to be lost when sweetest!
Stars that shine and fall,
The flower that droops in springing,
These, alas! are types of all
To which our hearts are clinging.
Who would seek or prize
Delights that end in aching?
Who would trust to ties
That every hour are breaking?
Better far to be
In utter darkness lying,
Than blest with light, and see
That light for ever flying!
MY ANNA’S URN.
Encompass’d in an angel’s frame,
An angel’s virtues lay,
Too soon did heav’n assert the claim,
And call’d its own away.
My Anna’s worth, my Anna’s charms
Must never more return;
What now shall fill these widow'd arm?
Ah me! my Anna’s urn.
