The Young Widow.

[1]      A husband's death brings always sighs;      The widow sobs, sheds tears - then dries.      Of Time the sadness borrows wings;      And Time returning pleasure brings.      Between the widow of a year      And of a day, the difference      Is so immense,      That very few who see her      Would think the laughing dame      And weeping one the same.      The one puts on repulsive action,      The other shows a strong attraction.      The one gives up to sighs, or true or false;      The same sad note is heard, whoever calls.      Her grief is inconsolable,      They say. Not so our fable,      Or, rather, not so says the truth.      To other worlds a husband went      And left his wife in prime of youth.      Above his dying couch she bent,      And cried, 'My love, O wait for me!      My soul would gladly go with thee!'      (But yet it did not go.)      The fair one's sire, a prudent man,      Check'd not the current of her woe.      At last he kindly thus began: -      'My child, your grief should have its bound.      What boots it him beneath the ground      That you should drown your charms?      Live for the living, not the dead.      I don't propose that you be led      At once to Hymen's arms;      But give me leave, in proper time,      To rearrange the broken chime      With one who is as good, at least,      In all respects, as the deceased.'      'Alas!' she sigh'd, 'the cloister vows      Befit me better than a spouse.'      The father left the matter there.      About one month thus mourn'd the fair;      Another month, her weeds arranged;      Each day some robe or lace she changed,      Till mourning dresses served to grace,      And took of ornament the place.      The frolic band of loves      Came flocking back like doves.      Jokes, laughter, and the dance,      The native growth of France,      Had finally their turn;      And thus, by night and morn,      She plunged, to tell the truth,      Deep in the fount of youth.      Her sire no longer fear'd      The dead so much endear'd;      But, as he never spoke,      Herself the silence broke: -      'Where is that youthful spouse,' said she,      'Whom, sir, you lately promised me?'