  Contributed by a friend. The blue sky was her canopy; The flower-gemmed turf, her shrine; Her incense, deep and fervent love, Pure from the heart’s rich mine. Her brow was fair, her eyes were mild, Her sunny smile was bright: No discontent its shadow threw Across her spirit’s light. Angels their constant vigil kept, And guarded her from harm; Breathing around her, while she slept, A spirit-soothing charm. But she hath left this guilt-stained earth: No more her smiles may cheer; No more her gentle voice of mirth May breathe its music here. Her haunts are desecrated now, Or desolate and lone; And Psyche’s palace, where she dwelt, Has ceased to be her home. |
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