Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/48

 O daughter—my daughter! when Death stands before me And beckons me off to that far misty shore, Let me see your loved form bending tenderly o'er me, And feel your dear kiss on my lips as of yore. In the grace of your love all my anguish abating, I'll bear myself bravely and proudly as he, And know the sweet peace that hallowed his waiting When Nellie was coining from over the sea.