- I SAW a maiden young and fair,
- Laid on a snow-white bed;
- I should have deemed her sleeping there—
- But they told me, she was dead!
- Her hair was parted on her brow,
- With such a life-like wave—
- How could I deem it folded now
- For the chambers of the grave!
- A beauteous "smile had left its trace
- On her lip at the parting breath"—
- How could I think such smile must grace
- The gloomy halls of death!
- Her soft lids had a violet tinge,
- As they drooped o'er her dove-like eyes;
- Would they lift no more their silken fringe?
- Would they beam but from the skies?
- She looked so very young and fair,
- I should have said she slept,
- But that all who saw her lying there,
- Paused, turned aside, and—wept.
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