Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/112

112  Its gather'd film Kindled one moment, with a sudden glow Of tearless agony,—and fearful pangs Racking the rigid features, told how strong A mother's love doth root itself. One cry Of bitter anguish, blent with fervent prayer Went up to Heaven,—and as its cadence sank, Her spirit enter'd there.

Morn after morn Rose and retir'd,—yet still as in a dream I seem'd to move. The certainty of loss Fell not at once upon me. Then I wept As weep the sisterless. For thou wert fled My only, my belov'd,—my sainted one, Twin of my spirit! and my number'd days Must wear the sable of that midnight hour Which rent thee from me.

 

Man of God, from distant toil To his sweet home drew nigh, And kindling expectation rose With brightness to his eye,— But She, the sharer of his joy, The solace of his care,— Whose smile of welcome, woke his soul To rapture, was not there. 