PART II.
Bright shines the sun, the gentle breeze
In soften'd murmurs blows,
And softly through the verdant mead,
The little streamlet flows.
Close by yon fragrant violet bank,
Beneath the spreading thorn,
His mother's stool and cushion'd chair
Are by young Edward borne.
And from the lowly cottage door,
With feeble steps and slow,
Anna supports her mother's frame,
As to the bank they go.
There, seated on her pillow'd chair,
She breathes the balmy breeze,
Whilst Anne and Edward quietly
Are seated at her knees.
With merry hearts they now can meet
Her kind approving eye,
And to her various questions give
A cheerful, quick reply.
They have not now her death to fear,
But know, that time and care,
Will soon restore their mother dear,
To their most ardent prayer.