SHE DIED, AS DAWNED HER NATAL DAY.

She died, as dawned her natal day!

Amid the buds and flowers of May

Her spirit left the beauteous clay,

In death's deep slumber here;

And mounting up her starry way,

Attained that holier sphere,

Where falls no night o'er birth-day light —

No sorrow brings a tear.

The joy and glory of the skies

With radiance fill her heavenly eyes,

Where thornless flowers around her rise,

And founts that ne'er shall fail;

While here her form so lowly lies

All silent, cold and pale;

Where dews distil, and night-winds chill

Moan through the shadowy vale.