I saw thee young and beautiful,
I saw thee rich and gay,
In the first blush of womanhood,
Upon thy wedding-day;
The church-bells rang,
And the little children sang:
"Flowers, flowers, kis her feet;
Sweets to the sweet;
The winter's past, the rains are gone--
Bless'd is the bride whom the sun shines on."
I saw thee poor and desolate,
I saw thee fade away,
In broken-hearted widowhood,
Before thy locks were grey;
The death-bell rang,
And the little children sang:
"Lilies, dress her winding-sheet;
Sweets to the sweet:
The summer's past, the sunshine gone;
Bless'd is the corpse which the rain rains on."
