[from Collected Works, T.E.Brown]


HER husband died before her babe was born
Two years ago. Converted ? Doubt and grief,
Poor soul ! she felt. Her Methodist creed forlorn
Gave but a lenten substance of relief.
To-day, beneath the piteous gaze of morn,
Her child is dying. On his little brow
Descends the veil, and all is over now—
Not yet ! not yet ! For suddenly he springs,
As who perceived the gleam of golden wings.
" Dada ! " he cries, he knows his father’s face
Ne’er seen before. O God, Thou giv’st the grace!
O widowed heart ! They live in Heaven’s fair light
Your husband with his boy. The child was right.



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