Page:Poems Acton.djvu/120

No flowers bright the mirror graced,
 And beauty o'er it flung;
But cypress dark each bud replaced,
 And sadly round it hung.

And she was laid on dying bed,
 The ancient glass beneath,
Who late upon her graceful head
 Had worn the bridal wreath;
And on its face with failing look,
 The mirror saw her gaze;
As if a sad farewell she took
 Of lov'd and bygone days.

And sunset filled that stately hall,
 With all its glories bright,
And bathed the mirror on the wall
 In gushing floods of light,
And lingered o'er the snowy brow
 It softly fell upon;
But the throbbing heart was silent now,
 The pure bright spirit gone!
H. A.