Page:Home; or, The unlost paradise (IA homeorunlostpara00palm).pdf/66

 Lies, as in carelessness, the flaxen hair. In tranquil slumber one might deem he rests, But that the leaden eye a sleep bespeaks Too deep for waking. Folded on the breast, Now motionless, repose the snowy hands With flowers o'er-strown; strange contrast! e'en as when Thick clustering violets are seen to spring, Or lilies of the valley, where the drifts Of winter part, touched by the vernal sun. Mary, they saw thee come—and stand—and gaze— As if thy soul, with anguish wrestling long, At last had mastered its fierce inward strife; As if a self-command that awful seemed Had changed thee to a statue; saw thee take Thy last, last look, and heard thy lips pronounce, "My boy—thou'rt mine no more! I give thee back To God who gave thee! O farewell!—farewell!" So triumphed faith when anguish wrung the heart; And as the rainbow spans the cloud o'erpast, Emblem of peace that waits beyond the storm,