AT THE GRAVE OF A YOUNG MOTHER
A transient day,
A troubled night,
The swift decay,
The certain blight,
And death and dust;—
And are these all?—
Nay: those are past;
And she who sleeps
Shall wake at last
Among the just!
A transient day,
A troubled night,
The swift decay,
The certain blight,
And death and dust;—
And are these all?—
Nay: those are past;
And she who sleeps
Shall wake at last
Among the just!