To Mrs. Dulaney

What was thine errand here? Thy beauty was more exquisite than aught That from this marrèd earth Takes its imperfect birth. It was a radiant heavenly beauty, caught From some far higher sphere, And though an angel now, thou still must bear The lovely semblance that thou here didst wear. What was thine errand here? Thy gentle thoughts, and holy, humble mind, With earthly creatures coarse Held not discourse, But with fine spirits, of some purer kind, Dwelt in communion dear; And sure they speak to thee that language now, Which thou wert wont to speak to us, below. What was thine errand here? To adorn anguish, and ennoble death, And make infirmity A patient victory. And crown life's baseness with a glorious wreath, That fades not on thy bier, But fits, immortal soul! thy triumph still, In that bright world where thou are gone to dwell.