Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/43

Ranged in a charnel drear and dim
    A lifeless throng appear,
With blacken'd brow, and rigid limb
    Embalm'd by frost severe.

Strangers were there from many a clime
    Upright in firm array,
Bold men who fell before their time,
    The Avalanche's prey.

They placed her in her niche of stone
    With meek, reclining head,
And there her beauty strangely shone
    A pearl among the dead.

She seem'd like pale, sepulchral lamp,
    To light that spectred gloom,
Unquench'd by vapours dense and damp,
    That haunt the mouldering tomb.

And now the orphan found a home
    Where those lone arches bend,
Throughout that calm, monastic dome
    The favorite and the friend.

Soft cradled in their peaceful arms
    His evening dream would fleet,
And morn that roused his opening charms
    Renew'd their kindness sweet.

For they whom no domestic ties
    With gentle force comprest,
Perceived a new affection rise
    To glad the hermit breast.