If chance some pensive stranger, hither led, <br />His bosom glowing from majestic views, <br />Temple and tower 'mid the bright landscape's hues, <br />Should ask who sleeps beneath this lowly bed? <br />A maid of sorrow. To the cloistered scene, <br />Unknown and beautiful a mourner came, <br />Seeking with unseen tears to quench the flame <br />Of hapless love: yet was her look serene <br />As the pale moonlight in the midnight aisle;-- <br />Her voice was gentle and a charm could lend, <br />Like that which spoke of a departed friend; <br />And a meek sadness sat upon her smile!-- <br />Now, far removed from every earthly ill, <br />Her woes are buried, and her heart is still.<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-convent-2/
