Poems (Denver)/Mourn not the Departed

by Mary Caroline Denver

MOURN NOT THE DEPARTED.

Weep not, weep not, for the long cherished flower!
 The fresh dews of morning will vanish ere noon;
The star that shines brightest at midnight's dark hour,
 Will fade in the distance full soon;
Our own hopes grow sad as the sere autumn leaf,
And gladness gives place to the winter of grief.

Why mourn for the young and the loved one departed?
 Why weep for the blossom you cherished with care?
Earth cannot boast of a maid so light-hearted,
 That no traces of sorrow are there.
We look on the lips and the smiles that enwreath,
And see not the heart that is fainting beneath.

Then mourn not for her, who has gone ere the power
 Of sorrow could bow to the earth her fair head;
Let memory hover around the young flower,
 And speak of the beautiful dead.
Let her in the sleep of serenity rest—
For earth hath no care that can sadden her breast.

As a sweet strain of music floats over the water,
 And dies on the air, still to live in the heart,
Even so the young beauty of earth's fairest daughter,
 Though gone, still can gladness impart;
For Memory keeps every good influence green,
And fair faces dead are vet never unseen.