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THE V0UNG WIDOW. |
311 |
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Thinking of that pleasant wildwood, Where I play'd a joyful child :
Thinking of my home, my mother, Of the faces round that hearth— 0 ! my brother, dearest brother,
'Tis the brightest spot on earth! -. But though brightest, there's one other, Where I love the best t' abide— . 'Tis with him, my dearest brother, Who.has took me to his side.
Apsl. 1343.
THE YOUNG WIDOW.
" There is no union here of hearts,
That finds not here an end."—Montoomebi.
Dost thou believe it, lonely one, Hanging o'er that marble stone ? Dost thou think that death can sever, Ties so strongly form'd forever ? Dost thou believe that union sweet
Ended in his grave ? And that ye shall never meet
Over Jordan's wave ?
I saw a lovely infant press'd
In anguish to thy throbbing breast,
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