Classic Poem

BY ALEXANDER .

Lady, hear the fairy numbers,
We, a few frail flowers would send,
Pure as are thy gentlest slumbers,
For our sister and our friend.
We are transitory things,
Blooming but a little hour;
So have joy and beauty wings,
Fading like a passing flower.
We had past, like morning's dews,
Long forgot though once so dear,
But behold our living hues
Fixed in imag'd beauty here!
We were young, like you, and fair,
We have gone as all things must;
Youth is less than fleeting air,
Beauty is but painted dust!
But these vanish'd lives of ours
Have not flown away in vain;
Thoughts, that linger round these flowers,
Memory oft shall bring again.
Happy we who still can give
Voices from the silent tomb,
Bidding fond remembrance live,
Cherishing affection's bloom!
So we pray your guardian spirit,
When youth's brilliant flush is o'er,
All heart, mind, have gained of merit.
There to fix forevermore:
Happy thoughts of sinless pleasures,
All the cultur'd mind hath given, —
All the bosom's glowing treasures, —
All that wafts the soul to Heaven!