Page:Records of Woman.pdf/167

Rh

Yet, while thy place of weeping still Its lone memorial keeps, While on thy name, midst wood and hill, The quiet sunshine sleeps, And touches, in each graven line, Of reverential thought a sign;

Can I, while yet these tokens wear The impress of the dead, Think of the love embodied there, As of a vision fled? A perish'd thing, the joy and flower And glory of one earthly hour?

Not so!—I will not bow me so, To thoughts that breathe despair! A loftier faith we need below, Life's farewell words to bear. Mother and child!—Your tears are past— Surely your hearts have met at last!