Marion

She passed away,Like a fair star "lost on the brow of day;"Like the echo of laughter sweet and gay,Like the perfume which died out yesterday;As evening's silver dissipates day's gold,As the sweet music of a tale oft told,As the red clouds that round the mountain foldAre changed to gray,—She passed away.

She passed away,Like the soft sunshine of an autumn day,Like the mist-wreaths from off a sunlit bay,Like the light footsteps of a woodland fay;As the bright rainbow spanning the dark sky,As thistle-down when stormy winds are high,—As the hope-light, born in a weary eye,Flees at grief's stay,She passed away.