To Mrs. Dulaney

What was thine errand here?
  Thy beauty was more exquisite than aught
  That from this marrèd earth
  Takes its imperfect birth.
  It was a radiant heavenly beauty, caught
  From some far higher sphere,
  And though an angel now, thou still must bear
  The lovely semblance that thou here didst wear.
  What was thine errand here?
  Thy gentle thoughts, and holy, humble mind,
  With earthly creatures coarse
  Held not discourse,
  But with fine spirits, of some purer kind,
  Dwelt in communion dear;
  And sure they speak to thee that language now,
  Which thou wert wont to speak to us, below.
  What was thine errand here?
  To adorn anguish, and ennoble death,
  And make infirmity
  A patient victory.
  And crown life's baseness with a glorious wreath,
  That fades not on thy bier,
  But fits, immortal soul! thy triumph still,
  In that bright world where thou are gone to dwell.