The Invalid

She came in Spring, when leaves were green,
And birds sang blithe in bower and tree —
A stranger, but her gentle mien
It was a calm delight to see.

In every motion, grace was hers;
On every feature, sweetness dwelt;
Thoughts soon became her worshippers —
Affections soon before her knelt.

She bloom'd through all the summer days
As sweetly as the fairest flowers,
And till October's softening haze
Came with its still and dreamy hours.

So calm the current of her life,
So lovely and serene its flow,
We hardly mark'd the deadly strife
Disease forever kept below.

But autumn winds grew wild and chill,
And pierced her with their icy breath;
And when the snow on plain and hill
Lay white, she pass'd, and slept in death.

Tones only of immortal birth
Our memory of her voice can stir;
With things too beautiful for earth
Alone do we remember her.

She came in Spring, when leaves were green,
And birds sang blithe in bower and tree,
And flowers sprang up and bloom'd between
Low branches and the quickening lea.

The greenness of the leaf is gone,
The beauty of the flower is riven,
The birds to other climes have flown,
And there 's an angel more in heaven!