Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/243

 The shade o'er-flush'd her limbs with heat—
 * Then came a chill like death:

And when the merry bells rang out,
 * They seem'd to stop her breath.

Beneath the foulest Mother's curse
 * No child could ever thrive:

A Mother is a Mother still,
 * The holiest thing alive.

So five months pass'd: the Mother still
 * Would never heal the strife;

But Edward was a loving man
 * And Mary a fond wife.

"My sister may not visit us,
 * My mother says her nay:

O Edward! you are all to me, I wish for your sake I could be
 * More lifesome and more gay.

I'm dull and sad! indeed, indeed I know I have no reason! Perhaps I am not well in health, And 'tis a gloomy season."