My First Love, and My Last

Cathara, when the many silent tears
Of beauty, bending o'er thy bed,
Bespoke the change familiar to our fears,
I could not think thy spirit yet had fled —
So like to life the slumber death had cast
On thy sweet face, my first love and my last.
I watch'd to see those lids their light unfold,
For still thy forehead rose serene and fair,
As when those raven ringlets richly roll'd
O'er life, which dwelt in thought and beauty there
Thy cheek the while was rosy with the theme
That flush'd along the spirit's mystic dream.
Thy lips were circled with that silent smile
Which oft around their dewy freshness woke,
When some more happy thought or harmless wile
Upon thy warm and wandering fancy broke:
For thou wert Nature's child, and took the tone
Of every pulse, as if it were thine own.
I watch'd, and still believed that thou wouldst wake,
When others came to place thee in the shroud:
I thought to see this seeming slumber break,
As I have seen a light, transparent cloud
Disperse, which o'er a star's sweet face had thrown
A shadow like to that which veil'd thine own.
But, no: there was no token, look, or breath:
The tears of those around, the tolling bell
And hearse told us at last that this was death!
I know not if I breathed a last farewell;
But since that day my sweetest hours have pass'd
In thought of thee, my first love and my last.