My Angel Sister, Tho' Thy Lovely Form Perish'D 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 Vanish'D Long Since; Deep In The Silent Shrine Wither'D To Shapeless Dust! - And Of Their Grace Memory Alone Retains The Faithful Trace. - Dear Lock, Had Thy Sweet Owner Liv'D, Ere Now Time On Her Brow Had Faded Thee! - My Care Screen'D From The Sun And Dew Thy Golden Glow; And Thus Her Early Beauty Dost Thou Wear, Thou All Of That Fair Frame My Love Cou'D Save From The Resistless Ravage Of The Grave!