Though An Angel Should Write, Still 'tis

It Is Not While Beauty And Youth Are Thine Own And Thy Cheeks Unprofaned By A Tear That The Ferver And Faith Of A Soul Can Be Known To Which Time Will But Make Thee More Dear No The Heart That Has Truly Loved Never Forgets But As Truly Loves On To The Close As The Sunflower Turns On Her God When He Sets The Same Look Which She'd Turned When He Rose.

Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me.

And The Heart That Is Soonest Awake To The Flowers Is Always The First To Be Touch'd By The Thorns.

From Plants That Wake When Others Sleep, From Timid Jasmine Buds That Keep Their Odour To Themselves All Day, But When The Sunlight Dies Away Let The Delicious Secret Out To Every Breeze That Roams About.

All That's Bright Must Fade, The Brightest Still The Fleetest; All That's Sweet Was Made But To Be Lost When Sweetest.