EVAN M'COLL.[16]

She died—as die the roses On the ruddy clouds of dawn, When the envious sun discloses His flame, and morning 's gone. She died—like waves of sun-glow Fast by the shadows chased: She died—like heaven's rainbow By gushing showers effaced. She died—like flakes appearing On the shore beside the sea; Thy snow as bright! but, nearing, The ground-swell broke on thee. She died—as dies the glory Of music's sweetest swell: She died—as dies the story When the best is still to tell. She died—as dies moon-beaming When scowls the rayless wave: She died—like sweetest dreaming, That hastens to its grave. She died—and died she early: Heaven wearied for its own. As the dipping sun, my Mary, Thy morning ray went down!