86 THE MOURNING DAUGHTER.
Upon her tearless cheek, and, murmuring, said,
" How strange that he should be so lightly mourn 'd."
O woman ! oft misconstrued ; the pure pearls
Lie all too deep, in thy heart's secret well,
For the unpausing and impatient hand
To win them forth. In that meek maiden's breast
Sorrow and loneliness sank darkly down,
Though the blanch 'd lips breath'd out no boisterous plaint
Of common grief.
Even on to life's decline,
Through all the giddy round of prosperous years, The birth of new affections, and the joys That cluster round earth's favourites, there walk'd Still at her side the image of her sire, As in that hour when his cold glazing eye Met hers, and knew her not. When her full cup Perchance had foam'd with pride, that icy glance, Checking its effervescence, taught her soul The chasten 'd wisdom of attemper 'd bliss.
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