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1791–1865

MISS ALICE BECKWITH,

Lydia Howard Sigourney

The beautiful hath fled To join the spirit-train; Earth interposed with strong array, Love stretch'd his arms to bar her way,

All,— all in vain. There was a bridal hope Before her crown'd with flowers; The orange blossoms took the hue

With which the cypress dank with dew Darkeneth our bowers. Affections strong and warm Sprang round her gentle way,

Young Childhood, with a moisten'd eye, And Friendship's tenderest sympathy Watch'd her decay. Disease around her couch

Long held a tyrant sway, Till vanished from her cheek, the rose, And the fair flesh like vernal snows Wasted away.

Yet the dark Angel's touch Dissolv'd that dire control, And where the love-knot cannot break Nor pain nor grief intrusion make,

Bore the sweet soul.

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