Page:Florence Earle Coates Mine and Thine 1904 112.jpg



should we think of her as dead

Whose words to many are as daily bread?

How should we deem her gone

Whose help is not, and cannot be, withdrawn?

We do not mourn the orb as set

Whose shining beams are all about us yet!

Ah, no! They live indeed—the dead

By whose example we are upward led;

Nor was her service vain

Who gave herself—again and yet again—