Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/150

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To pray. Alas! for thee too much have I forgot My orisons beside my mother's grave: Till lately, never did a day go past Without some scatter'd flowers, some holy hymn, That kept affection fresh with piety. It is a beautiful, a bless'd belief, That the beloved dead, grown angels, watch The dear ones left behind; and that my prayers Are welcome to my mother's ears, as when I knelt a lisping infant at her knee; And that her pure and holy spirit now Doth intercede at the eternal throne: And thus religion in its love and hope Unites us still—the mother and her child!