PICTURE OF A YOUNG LADY.

By William Lisle Bowles

When I was sitting, sad, and all alone,

Remembering youth and love for ever fled,

And many friends now resting with the dead,

While the still summer's light departing shone,

Like many sweet and silent summers gone;

Thou camest, as a vision, with a mien

And smile like those I once on earth had seen,

And with a voice of that remembered tone

Which I in other days, long since, had heard:

Like Peace approaching, when distempers fret

Most the tired spirit, thy fair form appeared;

And till I die, I never shall forget,—

For at thy footstep light, the gloom was cheered,—

Thy look and voice, oh! gentle Margaret.