Page:Amulet 1835.pdf/4

10

And many a little brow had watched For weeks some favourite flower, Proud and impatient of its growth For this auspicious hour.

And many a little heart had linked Its deepest, dearest prayer, And the fulfilment of its hope With the sweet offerings there.

One bore a banner, where was wrought The Virgin and her Son— Her younger sister and herself The broidery begun.

But she who held the banner now Went on her way alone; No sister shared the sacred task:— Her sister's task was done!

As yet the grass was scarcely grown Upon that bright young head; As yet the tears were warm that fell Above the early dead.

Poor child! how pale and sorrowful She takes her silent way! A prayer for the departed one Is on her lips to-day.