YOUTHFUL PRIME





I saw thy form in youthful prime,

Nor thought that pale decay;

Would steal before the steps of time,

And waste its bloom away Mary!



Yet still thy features wore that light,

Which fleets not with the breath;

And life never looked more purely bright,

Than in thy smile of death Mary!



As streams that run over golden mines,

With modest murmur glide;

Nor seem to know the wealth that shines,

With in xthisx their gentle tide Mary!



So, veiled beneath a simple guise, 

Thy radiant genius shone;

And that which charmed all other yeyes,

Seemed worthless in thy own Mary!



If souls could always dwell above

Thou never hadest left thy sphere;

Or, could we keep the souls we love,

We never had lost thee here Mary!



Though many a gifted mind we meet,

Though fairest forms we see;

To live with them is far less sweet,

Than to remember thee Mary!