Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/109

108 For not the breath of prosperous days, Though warm with joy and wing'd with praise, E'er kindled such a living coal Of deep devotion in the soul As that wild blast, which bore away Her idol to returnless clay: And, for the wreath that crown'd the brow, Left bitter thoughts and hyssop-bough, A lonely couch, a sever'd tie, A tear that time can never dry, Unutter'd wo, unpitied care: O God! regard the widow's prayer.