COME to the grave--the silent grave! and dream <br />Of a light, happy voice--so full of joy, <br />That those who heard her laugh, would laugh again, <br />Echoing the mirth of such an innocent spirit; <br />And pause in their own converse, to look round, <br />Won by the witchery of that gleesome tone. <br />Come to the grave--the lone dark grave! and dream <br />Of eyes whose brilliancy was of the soul, <br />Eyes which, with one bright flash from their dark lids, <br />Seemed at a glance to read the thoughts of others; <br />Or, with a full entire tenderness, <br />The pure expression of all-perfect love, <br />(Of woman's love, which is for you alone, <br />While your's is for yourself)--gave in that look <br />The promise of a life of meek affection. <br />Come to the grave--the mouldering grave! and dream <br />Of a fair form that glided over earth <br />One of its happiest creatures:--to her cheek <br /> <br />The lightest word might bring the blushing blood <br />In pure carnation;--down her graceful neck, <br />The long rich curls of jet hung carelessly, <br />Untortured by the cunning hand of art: <br />And on her brow, bright purity and joy, <br />Twin sisters, sate,--as on a holy throne. <br />Come yet unto the grave--the still, damp grave! <br />And dream of a young heart that beat with life, <br />And all life's best affections; of a heart <br />Where sorrow never came, nor fear, nor sin-- <br />Nor aught save innocence, and perfect love: <br />And, having dreamed of such a lovely being-- <br />So gay, so bright, so pure, so fond, so meek-- <br />Having thus conjured up a form of love <br />In thine own pausing and regretful mind;-- <br />A vision will be present to thy soul, <br />A faint, but faithful portraiture, of one <br />Most dearly loved, and now for ever lost!<br /><br />Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lost-one-6/
