Hartley Coleridge (1796–1849)

SHE pass’d away like morning dew,

Before the sun was high;

So brief her time, she scarcely knew

The meaning of a sigh.

As round the rose its soft perfume,

Sweet love around her floated;

Admired she grew—while mortal doom

Crept on, unfear’d, unnoted.

Love was her guardian Angel here,

But Love to Death resign’d her;

Tho’ Love was kind, why should we fear

But holy Death is kinder?