She was a sunbeam in the storm,—
⁠A star that gently lifted
Above the dark its beauteous form,
⁠When the dull tempest shifted.
She loved—that passion like a spell
⁠With her young dreams was blended:
The flowerets from youth's chaplet fell
⁠Before her spring-time ended.

In yon church-yard, the flowers are fair
⁠Beneath heaven's blue expansion:—
But a sweeter gem is lying there,
⁠In dark oblivion's mansion;
The bud of promise to all eyes—
⁠O'er whom the wild wind dashes,—
But she shall flourish in the skies,
⁠When stars and worlds are ashes.