MISS SARA K. TAYLOR,

How beautiful in death

The young and lovely sleeper lies —

Sweet calmness on the close-sealed eyes,

Flowers o'er the snowy neck and brow

Where lustrous curls profusely flow;

If‘ twere not for the icy chill

That from her marble hand doth thrill,

And for her lip that gives no sound,

And for the weeping all around,

How beautiful were death.

How beautiful in life!

Her pure affections heavenward moving,

Her guileless heart so full of loving,

Her joyous smile, her form of grace,

Her clear mind lighting up the face,

And making home a blessed place,

Still breathing thro’ the parents’ heart

A gladness words could ne'er impart,

A faith that foil'd affliction's dart —

How beautiful her life.

Gone to the Better Land!

Before the world's cold mist could shade

The brightness on her spirit laid,

Before the autumnal breeze might fray

One leaflet from her wreath away,

Or crisp one tendril of the vine

That hope and happiness did twine —

Gone — in the soul's unfaded bloom

That dreads no darkness of the tomb —

Gone to the Better Land.