56
TO MY SISTER.
Thou art a gentle angel that my God
Hath sent to soften, purify, and soothe
My soul of fierce unrest. To me thy love
Is the bright bow that spans life's darkest storm,
An angel bending from the tempest-cloud.
We two have wept o'er our dear mother's grave,
Together we have bowed our heads and prayed
For strength from Heaven to shield us from the stern
Deep agonies of life. Our mother sleeps
Afar, and we, the children of her love,
Are left to buffet life's dark waves alone.
No, not alone, for at the solemn hour
Of holy midnight, on the moon's pale beams
That mother seeks her loved ones on the earth,
To whisper strength and comfort to their hearts.
Oh then, sweet sister, let us gird ourselves
For life's great battle, safe beneath her wing
From every pain and danger.
Hath sent to soften, purify, and soothe
My soul of fierce unrest. To me thy love
Is the bright bow that spans life's darkest storm,
An angel bending from the tempest-cloud.
We two have wept o'er our dear mother's grave,
Together we have bowed our heads and prayed
For strength from Heaven to shield us from the stern
Deep agonies of life. Our mother sleeps
Afar, and we, the children of her love,
Are left to buffet life's dark waves alone.
No, not alone, for at the solemn hour
Of holy midnight, on the moon's pale beams
That mother seeks her loved ones on the earth,
To whisper strength and comfort to their hearts.
Oh then, sweet sister, let us gird ourselves
For life's great battle, safe beneath her wing
From every pain and danger.
Sister mine!
I've marked with bitter, bitter agony
I've marked with bitter, bitter agony
