Classic Poem

As fair a soul as ever came from God,
And one more gentle never walkt the earth
In mortal guise. Of sweet external, too:
Fresh as the wakening morn with violet breath;
And every action, look, thought, word, and trace,
Were strung to tuneful melody. Her life
Was music's echo--stealing o'er the soul
Like dying strains, soft and retiringly.
In childish grace to womanhood she grew,
And like the virgin lily stood and smiled--
Flinging around the fragrance of herself
Unweeting of the blessings that she brought.