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" Stranger, I weep a mother taken
From my embrace, whose smiles could waken
A joyful gleam Along my path; but she has gone, And from her smile that joy has flown
Like a sweet dream, With all the pleasures I have known—
How brief they seem!
" O! once I loved the smiling flowers, And gather' d, through the summer hours,
Their cups of gold; But 'twas to win her smile of love, 1 search'd the meadow, and the grove,
Where they unfold— How can I 'midst those blossoms rove ?
That smile is cold!
" And, O ! I loved the bird-notes sweet, That used my flying steps to greet,
In the green shade; But since I heard her sweet Farewell, Sadly and low the wood-notes swell,
Where she was laid, And gloomy shadows long since fell
Where once I play'd.
" And I am sad,—at night I weep: No mother kisses me to sleep, Or lifts a prayer