Page:The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20.djvu/566

558 I know!—yet my arms are empty,
 * That fondly folded seven,

And the mother heart within me
 * Is almost starved for heaven.

Sometimes, in the dusk of evening,
 * I only shut my eyes,

And the children are all about me,
 * A vision from the skies:

The babes whose dimpled fingers
 * Lost the way to my breast,

And the beautiful ones, the angels,
 * Passed to the world of the blessed.

With never a cloud upon them,
 * I see their radiant brows:

My boys that I gave to freedom,—
 * The red sword sealed their vows!

In a tangled Southern forest,
 * Twin brothers, bold and brave,

They fell; and the flag they died for,
 * Thank God! floats over their grave.

A breath, and the vision is lifted
 * Away on wings of light,

And again we two are together,
 * All alone in the night.

They tell me his mind is failing,
 * But I smile at idle fears;

He is only back with the children,
 * In the dear and peaceful years.

And still as the summer sunset
 * Fades away in the west,

And the wee ones, tired of playing,
 * Go trooping home to rest,

My 'husband calls from his corner,
 * "Say, love ! have the children come?"

And I answer, with eyes uplifted,
 * "Yes, dear! they are all at home!"