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Mourn not for her! for what hath life to give That should detain her ready spirit here? Thinkest thou that it were worth a wish to live, Could wishes hold her from her proper sphere? That simple heart, that innocence sincere The world would stain. Fitter she ne'er could be For the great change; and now that change is near, Oh who would keep her soul from being free! Maiden beloved of Heaven, to die is best for thee!

She hath past away, and on her lips a smile Hath settled, fix'd in death. Judged they aright, Or suffered they their fancy to beguile The reason, who believed that she had sight Of Heaven before her spirit took its flight; That Angels waited round her lowly bed; And that in that last effort of delight, When lifting up her dying arms, she said, I come! a ray from Heaven upon her face was shed?