While the veil around her streameth, like a silvery halo's light;
And amid her hair's rich braidings rests the pearly orange bough,
With its fragrant blossoms pressing on her pure, unclouded brow.
Love's devotion yields the future with young Hope's resplendent beam;
And her spirit thrills with rapture, yielding to its blissful dream!

* * * *

DEATH.

"Death, thou art infinite!"
"All that live must die,
Passing through nature to Eternity."

Now we chant a miserere which proclaims the _end of man_--
Telling, in prophetic language, "_Life,"_ at best, "_is but a span!"_
Scarcely treading, slowly enter, reverently bend the knee--
List the Spirit's inward whisper, and from _worldly thoughts_ be free.
Here we view a weary pilgrim, cradled in a dreamless sleep;
Human sounds no more shall reach her, for its spell is "long and deep!"
Gaze upon the marble features! Mark how peacefully they rest!
Anguished thought, and sorrow's heavings, all are parted from that
breast!
Soon on mother earth reposing, this cold form shall calmly lie,
Till, by God's dread trump awakened, it shall mount to realms on high.

* * * * *

FOUR SONNETS TO THE FOUR SEASONS.