Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/13



Thy face Is all at once spread over with a calm More beautiful than sleep, or mirth, or joy! I am no more disconsolate.

Edith. Morn once again! Morn in the lone dim cell, The cavern of the prisoner's fever dream, And morn on all the green rejoicing hills, And the bright waters round the prisoner's home,