Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 17 1826.pdf/17

"Alas!" I cried, "fair faded thing!
    Thou hast wrung bitter tears,
And thou hast left a woe, to cling
    Round yearning hearts for years!"

But then a voice came sweet and low—
    I turn'd—and near me sate
A woman with a mourner's brow,
    Pale, yet not desolate!

And in her still, clear, matron face,
    All solemnly serene,
A shadow'd image I could trace
    Of that young slumberer's mien.

"Stranger! thou pitiest me," she said,
    With lips that faintly smiled,
"As here I watch beside my dead,
    My fair and precious Child.

"But know, the time-worn heart may be
    By pangs in this world riven,
Keener than theirs who yield, like me,
    An Angel unto Heaven!"F. H.