The Presentiment

OVER her face, so tender and meek,
The light of a prophecy lies,
That has silvered the red of the rose on her cheek,
And chastened the thought in her eyes!
Beautiful eyes, with an inward glance,
To the spirit's mystical deep;
Lost in the languid dream of a trance,
More solemn and saintly than sleep.
And, forever and ever, she seems to hear
The voice of a spirit implore,
"Come! enter the life that is noble and clear;
Come! grow to my heart once more."
And, forever and ever, she mutely turns
From a mortal lover's sighs;
And fainter the red of the rose-flush burns,
And deeper the thought in her eyes.
The seeds are warm of the churchyard flowers,
That will blossom above her rest,
And a bird that shall sing by the old church towers,
Is already fledged in its nest!
And so, when a blander summer shall smile,
On some night of soft July,
We will lend to the dust her beauty awhile,
In the hush of a moonless sky.
And later still, shall the churchyard flowers,
Gleam nigh with a white increase;
And a bird outpour, by the old church towers,
A plaintive poem of peace.