Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/301

 THE BEREAVED FATHER. 285

Beside his glorious throne they rest, on seraph-harps they

play; Why should I wish them back again in these cold tents

of clay? A stricken, not a mouniful man, I sigh, but not

repine, For my heart is in that land of love, with those I hope to

join.

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