Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/221

220 Gone to God! And yet I wish I had not seen the pang That wrung her features, nor the ghastly white Settling around her lips. I would that Heaven Had taken its own, like some transplanted flower, Blooming in all its freshness. Gone to God! Be still my heart! what could a mother's prayer, In all the wildest extacy of hope, Ask for its darling like the bliss of heaven?