Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/271

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"The Bible lay open upon his knee, "But he closed the book to welcome me. "He led me next where my mother lay, "And together we knelt by her grave to pray, "And heard a hymn it was heaven to hear, "For it echoed one to my young days dear. "This dream has waked feelings long, long since fled, "And hopes which I deemed in my heart were dead! "—We have not spoken, but still I have hung "On the northern accents that dwell on thy tongue; "To me they are music, to me they recall "The things long hidden by Memory's pall! "Take this long curl of yellow hair, "And give it my father, and tell him my prayer, "My dying prayer, was for him."...