O young and beautiful, thy step
Was light with fairy grace,
And well the music of thy voice
Accorded with thy face,
And blent with those attractive charms
How fair it was to see
Thy tenderness for her who fill'd
A Mother's place to thee.
Yet all the pure and holy ties
Thus round thy being wove,
They are not lost, they are not dead,
They have a life above.
What though the sleepless care of love
Might not avail to save,
And sorrow with her dropping tear
Keeps vigil o'er thy grave,
Faith hath a rainbow for the cloud,
A solace for the pain,
A promise from the Book Divine
To rise, nor part again.