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THE BEREAVED ONE.
The rose was softly shining
Through dewy tears of night, And the old willow branches
"Were waving fresh and bright, When the first sun rays streaming
Enliven'd that dear spot, Where grew on one lone hillock
The pale Forget-me-not.
There came a gentle being
With morning's earliest smile, And knelt in mournful silence
Above her sleeping child! A tear, fresh from her eyelid,
Lay on her cheek at rest; And one deep sigh was struggling
"Within her heaving breast.
She clasp'd her hands in anguish,
And cried in tones most wild, " Where aft thou, 0 my cherub!
" My child—my angel child!" And, when her tongue was silent,
There stream'd a tearful flood, But in submissive meekness
She bow'd to kiss the rod.