Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 17 1826.pdf/17



"Alas!" I cried, "fair faded thing!    Thou hast wrung bitter tears, And thou hast left a woe, to cling     Round yearning hearts for years!"

But then a voice came sweet and low— I turn'd—and near me sate A woman with a mourner's brow, Pale, yet not desolate!

And in her still, clear, matron face, All solemnly serene, A shadow'd image I could trace Of that young slumberer's mien.

"Stranger! thou pitiest me," she said, With lips that faintly smiled, "As here I watch beside my dead,    My fair and precious Child.

"But know, the time-worn heart may be    By pangs in this world riven, Keener than theirs who yield, like me,     An Angel unto Heaven!"F. H.