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58 " I think we have not been impatient, Lord, We know Thou lovest us, and we love Thee : We hold up chained hands before Thee, Lord, And only wonder when they will be free. " A little happiness, good Lord, dear Lord, If only for a moment ere we die ; Life is so short, yet seems so long with pain, ' A moment's bliss ' is all our longing cry ' —: She ceased, with catching breath, and cried, " The tree !" Before the house there stood a mountain ash, Which some far-distant Prynne had brought to share The changes in the family estate. Though bent and scarred with age and evil times, It still upreared its wand-like spears of leaves, That shimmered silver in the fitful light. The storm, returning, had seized hold of this, 'Twas bowed and quivering like a foundering ship, With mutinous leaves, that whispered cheek on cheek, How they would help the wrecking wind this night.