Some bright spirit lived, and did
That decaying robe consume
Which its luster faintly hid,
Here its ashes find a tomb,
But beneath this pyramid
Thou art not if a thing divine
Like thee can die, thy funeral shrine
Is thy mother s grief and mine.
Where art thou, my gentle child ?
Let me think thy spirit feeds,
Within its life intense and wild?
Posted by on 10/30 at 04:46 PM