Classic Poem

Come hither and behold this lady's face,
Who lies asleep, as if strong Death had kissed
Upon her eyes the kiss none can resist,
And held her fast in his prolonged embrace!
See the still lips, which grant no answering grace
To Love's fond prayers, and the sweet, carven smile,
Sign of some dream-born joy which did beguile
The dreaming soul from its fair resting-place!
So will she look when Death indeed has sway
O'er her dear loveliness, and holds her fast
In that last sleep which knows nor night nor day,
Which hopes no future, contemplates no past;
So will she look; but now, behold! she wakes —
Thus, from the Night, Dawn's sunlit beauty breaks.