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He found her, was so silently lain
On the ground, with her beautiful head
Held closely in his son's chubby arms.
He was calling her loudly to wake.
His young voice was quite shrill with alarms,
Trying all his small best, just to make
Her notice, and see he wanted her.
"Try to open your eyes, and do look
Back at me." He cared not to incur
Her reproof; for such he could not brook,—
A mere glance from her eyes not of love,
From his newly found mother to be!
But poor child, he must now look above
For the answer his call there to see.
Father heard him call: "Mother dear, wake,
For our train has just emptied us out."
But no answer he had; he did take
A tone louder, and then he would shout.
Thus the bride from the wedding trip came,
Our own sweet, our own fair Mistress Gay.
In her coffin they fixed her the same
As a bride. She was fair where she lay.
Ah! so sad was the well furnished home,
All prepared the sweet bride to receive.
Now 'twas darkened, for ne'er will she roam,
From the light up above will she leave.
The day when they laid her away
She looked fresh in her gay bridal shroud;
Her young husband crept out in the gray;
By her side, in his grief he thus bowed.

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