On the Death of a Young Lady, by Charlotte Smith

With tears and flowers, we lay thy form to rest,
In nature’s soft embrace, shall peace surround;
And here among the woods, with each bird’s nest,
Thy spirit rises, soaring from the ground.

In pastures green, with dew and morning’s light,
And waters deep, where echoes soar and glow;
While time’s sweet zephyr cradles day and night,
Thy gentle spirit shall forever flow.

• Charlotte Smith