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My angel sister, though thy lovely form Perished in youth's gay morning, yet is mine This precious ringlet!--still the soft hairs shine, Still glow the nut-brown tints, all bright and warm With sunny gleam!--Alas! each kindred charm Vanished long since; deep in the silent shrine Withered to shapeless dust!--and of their grace Memory alone retains the faithful trace.-- Dear lock! had thy sweet owner lived, ere now Time on her brow had faded thee!--My care Screened from the sun and dew thy golden glow; And thus her early beauty dost thou wear, Thou all of that fair frame my love could save From the resistless ravage of the grave!