Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By The Buried MaidG. Wallingford Clarke
A
Maid of the matchless brow!—for the cold clay
To be thy bridegroom, till the eternal day,
When the loud trump its judgment peal shall swell.
But who that saw thine eyes’ bright glances play,
Thy cheek’s fine flush, that mock’d the blooms of May,
So late—could dream of death’s dissolving spell?
Soon will I lead along, with Hymen’s train,
To bless the blushing virgin, and the swain;—
And hope believed, and lighted up her bower;
Sudden the scene was changed—a radiant flower
Sunk its sweet head—and love’s glad song was vain!