Page:Landon in The New Monthly 1825.pdf/10

 Fashion’d by Nature in her gentlest mood, Almost for human brow too fair, too good; 'Twas a sweet face, a face of smiles, of tears. Of all that soothes and softens, wins, endears; Bearing the omen of its early fate:— The rose upon her lip was delicate, Her youthful cheek was pale, and all too plain Was seen the azure wandering of the vein, That shone in the clear temple, as if care, Wasting to sickness, had been working there. Erinna, she who died like her own song, Passing away soon, yet remember'd long; Her heart and lip were music, albeit one Who marvell'd at what her sweet self had done; Who breathed for Love, and pined to find that Fame In answer to her lute's soft summons came; See, the eye droops in sadness, as to shun That which it dared not gaze on, Glory's sun.