The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I saw her, the grave sheet was round her,

Months had passed since they laid her in clay;

Yet the damps of the tomb could not wound her,

The worms had not seized on their prey.

O, fair was her cheek, as I knew it.

When the rose all its colours there brought;

And that eye,-did a tear then bedew it?

Cleame'd like the herald of thought.

She bloom'd though the shroud was around her,

Locks o'er cold bosom wave,

As if the stern monarch had crown'd

The fair speechless queen of the grave.

But what lends the grave such a lusture?

O'er her cheeks what such beauty had shed?

His life blood, who bent there, had nurs'd her,

The living was food for the dead!