[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 fathers face
Neer seen before. O God, Thou givst the grace!
O widowed heart ! They live in Heavens fair light
Your husband with his boy. The child was right.