Virginia Statesman

Poetry.

(FROM THE NEW HAMPSHIRE POST.)

AN ELEGANT EXTRACT VERSIFIED.

I've seen a form beautiful in youth,
And joyful in the pleasures of life;
Her glance was sweet and variable—
Her cheek was like the morning's first blush—
And from her lips harmony was heard;
And oft as down the dance she floated.
Her light and slender form seemed to move
With every breeze, like the aspen.

In a trice—she had gone from the dance;
I sought, but she was not to be found!
Her bright eye had lost its sparkling hue—
The music of her voice was silent,
And no more would she rejoice on earth.
I then saw a slow and sable train,
Who sat sadly on an opened grave.
What was once gay and animated.
They paused—a voice broke the dread silence
"She was dust unto dust—
To the mother earth, from whence she came.
We consign the corpse of our sister."
They covered her with the damp cold soil
And the soddy clay of the valley.
Of the sad mourners there lingered one.
He threw himself down upon her grave
And weeping cried— There is no beauty.
No grace, that continueth in man—
For this is the end of her glory
G.