I Well Remember One Departed Now

I well remember one departed now,
Who raised in wonder an unbraided brow,
When I said, " Come to me, my pretty child! " . .
She hesitated, ran to me, and smiled.
" Now mind! " cried she, " don't tumble my lace-frill!
Nothing like that would dear mamma take ill."
She grew in beauty to her twentieth year,
Then knew, nor fear'd to know, that death was near.
Like ripen'd corn was laid her patient head,
Yet say not, impious Man! that she is dead.