Of one that dies in the dark hours,

The one her youth had wed:

At dawn she scares her tears away,

And through the cloud-enamelled day

Jests bravely for their bread.

She shared with all the brighter part;

The witching sallies lightly flew;

Her thoughts seemed, spilt by subtle art,

Half tear-drops and half dew.

They loved her for her gracious heart,

And the glad winds blew.

The sunbeam of her fleeting life

Gladdened the unsuspecting days;

And all the dusky imps of strife

Paled in her wisdom's lambent rays.

Her laugh to one was as a knife:

But she had pleasure's praise.

And I who loved that conquering smile,

And felt the tears in secret shed,

Who watched her life with kindly guile

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