She was a bright and cherished flower,
By tender parent's care,
But death has withered in an hour,
That which was once so fair.

Her eyes, once like the morning dew,
So sparkling bright and clear,
Are closed in death shut from the view,
Of friends and parents dear.

No more they smooth her golden hair,
Or bathe her burning brow,
She needs no more their tender care,
For death has laid her low.

Her body moulders in the grave,
Her spirit's gone to rest,
Though friends on earth do mourn, she'll leave,
Dear Mary's with the blest.

Two lovely babes these parents grieve-
And shall they see them more?
Yes; for in heaven with Christ they live,
They have only gone before.

And may their angel spirits guide,
And guard them on the way,
Till they the storms of life outride,
And meet in endless day.

How sad in night, how lonely home,
For thoughts will to our loved ones rome.

M. S.