Classic Poem

(On Seeing Her Picture)

I

Dear lady with thy silken hair so white,
And placid smile soft trembling on thy cheek,
Thine eyes a queenly nature do bespeak,
And one that never feared to aid the Right
Thy hands (that now are still forever more),
How patiently upon thy lap they rest
Perchance, so they may grant some meek request,
And shed light where there was none before.
And when the twilight shades of Death drew near
Enfolding every form in deepening black
Each little good thou did'st came smiling back,
And sang thy noble praises sweet and clear:
Thus, wafted up mid songs that never cease,
Thou cam'st, at last, to lands of endless peace

II

Sweet lady of the silken snowy hair,
Whose tiny tendrils cling about thy face
Loving full well their gentle resting-place:
Calm eyes, serene beyond compare,
A mother's patient ones, that understand,
Because the lips of love have kissed them wide,
And made of thee a woman deified,
And one, who proudly held the humblest hand
Thy tender mouth, that smiles from out the frame
So full of sympathy and peace divine,
That we can see thy saintly spirit shine
As brightly gleaming as an altar flame: —
Smile on, sweet saint! Thy mission still fulfill,
For though we leave, we see thee smiling still.