by Anna Seward, 1747-1809
My angel sister, though thy lovely form
Perished in youth’s gay morning, yet is mine
This precious ringlet!–still the soft hairs shine,
Still glow the nut-brown tints, all bright and warm
With sunny gleam!–Alas! each kindred charm
Vanished long since; deep in the silent shrine
Withered to shapeless dust!–and of their grace
Memory alone retains the faithful trace.–
Dear lock! had thy sweet owner lived, ere now
Time on her brow had faded thee!–My care
Screened from the sun and dew thy golden glow;
And thus her early beauty dost thou wear,
Thou all of that fair frame my love could save
From the resistless ravage of the grave!
